Truth or Dare
by Jessa4865
Summary: A cliche revisited. Elliot and Olivia play Truth or Dare.
1. Chapter 1

Truth or Dare (or Why Elliot and Olivia Try Not to Get Drunk Together)  
Jezyk  
Spoilers: Any eps through Anchors, but I don't know specifics because it's not done yet.  
Warning: Born out of sheer desperation during the long car trip home from yet another week in Maine. I can't be held responsible for anything.  
Disclaimer: These characters aren't mine. No, really.  
Dedication (aka Blame): JessicaR so started this. If all for her or because of her or on her head, however you decide you feel about it.

Part One

It was just shy of seven in the evening when Captain Cragen more or less threw them out of the precinct. They'd been working fruitlessly on a case for just under twenty hours when their bickering earned them the boss' stern admonishment to go home until they could act like grown ups.

They weren't even angry at one another, Olivia knew. She was simply tired, having caught three infuriating cases in a row. Elliot's irritation stemmed mostly from the fact that his seventeen-year-old son had been sitting, waiting impatiently, at the chair adjacent to his desk for the better part of an hour, anticipating a ride somewhere, tapping his foot, sighing dejectedly, and just generally making a nuisance of himself in that special way that only bored seventeen-year-olds can.

The bad moods that resulted in the stupid, pointless picking at one another which in turn had given them the relatively early night off evaporated immediately as they walked together to the locker room to collect their things to leave. They made small talk as the collected their jackets and lapsed into a comfortable silence on the trip back down to the bullpen. With an unspoken nod of goodbye, Olivia shortened her steps, falling a few feet behind Elliot and allowing Dickie to take over her place at his father's side.

She was only two steps behind them, her mind wandering about dinner and errands and the case and other random things, when she reached the door. Those two steps were suddenly erased as she pushed through the heavy steel door, discovering the pair hadn't made it far. The reason for their lack of progress was immediately clear – torrential rain was pouring down, instinct giving them pause about walking out into it.

"You boys forget your umbrellas?" Her teasing was delivered into her bag as she fished for her own umbrella.

Elliot rolled his eyes at her. "I was going to be nice and offer you a ride because of the rain, but if you're going to be a bitch about it-"

"Dad! I'm already late!" Dickie's nonexistent patience had already worn thin, teenage wisdom more concerned with his friends than with appearing rude to his father's partner.

"I'm ok, El. Don't worry about it." She adjusted her bag on her back, hoping to keep it under her umbrella as she started down the steps. The moment she reached the last step, however, lightening flashed, accompanied by a loud clap of thunder and a dramatic increase in the rain's fury. She glanced up at Elliot with a sheepish smile. "That ride still on the table?"

Elliot opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by Dickie's whine. "Dad!"

Cuffing his son on the shoulder with a stern glare, he looked back toward Olivia. "As long as you don't mind dropping Dickie off first."

It was a little less than thirty minutes later when Elliot stopped the car two blocks short of the movie theater, where Dickie insisted was the closest he be seen with adults. Not having had the experience of raising her own children, Olivia was able to understand, or at least remember, that the appearance of independence was extremely important to kids. Having long since forgotten that he'd ever been young and stupid and embarrassed by things like needing a ride from dad, Elliot was irritated by Dickie's insinuation that he wasn't good enough of a father to be seen with his son.

His displeasure with the circumstances sounded through in his voice. "You have a ride home, right?"

"Yeah." Dickie had the back door standing open, itching to get away, unconcerned with the rain pelting the seat.

"I don't want you on the subway alone at night."

Olivia could see Dickie's reflection in the side mirror, watching as he rolled his eyes at his father. She grinned, tucking her chin down so Elliot wouldn't see her smile. Elliot didn't often act like a dad around her and she was amused by the juxtaposition of overprotective dad Elliot and hotheaded cop Elliot.

Dickie sighed, then responded with a slightly whiny edge to his voice. "Mom said she'd be here at eleven."

As usual, the mention of his ex-wife caused Elliot's jaw to clench momentarily. He shook it off quickly. "And you're going to be right where you guys agreed on at eleven so she doesn't have to worry that you're missing, right?"

Dickie's silence gave away the fact that there was a hole in his argument, though it wasn't until he spoke that the specific hole was identifiable. "I don't have a watch."

Olivia looked back at the boy, annoyed herself that she still wasn't home yet. "Don't you have a phone?"

Dickie shrugged, his cheeks coloring red. "I forgot it."

Elliot shook his head, muttering about how he'd thought the damn thing was surgically attached to Dickie's hand as he unhooked the watch from his own wrist. "Here, take mine." He reached back over the seat, the watch Olivia had never seen Elliot without dangling from his fingers.

"Kay, thanks, Dad. Bye, Olivia." Dickie scooted toward the door as Elliot's hands returned to the steering wheel.

Olivia expected that Dickie would jump out of the car at that first opportunity. Instead, she was pushed to the side as Dickie leaned forward over the front seat, grabbing at his father's arm. Confused, she looked over, seeing the way Dickie was inspecting the top of Elliot's left wrist.

"When did you get this?" Any desperation to run off with his friends appeared gone, Dickie was instead transfixed by the small tattoo that Olivia, and apparently Dickie himself, had never seen.

A ghost of a smile crossed Elliot's face. "A long time ago."

Dickie's face wrinkled in thought. "I've never seen it before."

Fighting the smile, Elliot shrugged. "It's usually under my watch, but it's been there since you were little."

"What's it mean?" Dickie's voice was soft and curious, breathing life into the words in Olivia's brain.

The smile vanished, Elliot's face instead tightening in discomfort as he fixed his gaze out the windshield. "It's my captain's badge number. He's been like a father to me since before you were born, Dickie."

Dickie's interest faded. "Oh," he said in a flat tone.

"I'm going to call the house at quarter after eleven and if you're not home, you're grounded for a month, got it?"

"Got it. Bye." And then Dickie was gone, disappearing into the crowd of people racing to get where they were headed in the rain storm.

Once he was out of sight, Olivia's attention turned back to her partner. Elliot was glancing over his shoulder as he pulled the car into traffic. A moment later, they were on the road and his face turned to hers as he flashed her a smile.

"Sorry that took so long. I didn't think it would be this late."

Shrugging, Olivia turned back to stare out the window. "It's ok. I didn't really want to walk in the rain." They rode for a minute in silence, until Olivia turned to start at his profile.

He noticed in no time at all, his eyes darting over to her. "What's up?"

She cocked her head to the side. "Can I ask you a question?"

"I reserve the right not to answer."

She waited, until Elliot pulled to a stop at a traffic light. "Why'd you lie to Dickie?"

Utter confusion reflected on his face as he looked at her. "What?"

She nodded at his hand where it rested on the wheel. "That's not Cragen's badge number."

Normally, when Olivia challenged him, Elliot would hold her eyes and refuse to back down. But rather than holding her stare, his eyes were riveted to the five tattooed digits on his wrist. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he finally looked back at her.

And instead of an answer, she only received a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two

It wasn't long before the car made the final turn onto Olivia's block. As much of a hurry as she'd been in to get home, the thought of it suddenly seemed less than appealing. Maybe it was the rain, the pounding drizzle that threatened to soak her in the time it took to open her umbrella. Maybe it was the apartment, the welcoming spot she called her home when she was deluded enough to pretend she didn't more or less live at the one-six.

More likely, it was that going home meant being alone and without the only real source of comfort she'd ever found in her entire life. Before she reached for the door, she turned to him, the most comforting thing in the world to her.

His mouth was already open, his ability to read her mind probably the reason she felt so relaxed in his presence. "You feel like getting a drink?"

She nodded too quickly, unconcerned with revealing her eagerness. "Yeah, I do."

"Let's go." Rather than reaching to change gears, he reached for the door, pulling the silver handle until it released the door.

She stared in confusion, momentarily blinded by the dome light that chased away the soothing darkness. She watched him stand up, wondering if she'd misunderstood his words, trying to figure out if he'd perhaps requested the use of her bathroom or something.

He leaned down, the smile back on his face. "You coming? I'm getting soaked out here."

She copied his movements, climbing out of the car and shutting the door. As he crossed around the car to her side, she tried to remember what she had to drink in her place. It hadn't occurred to her before then, but once Elliot had mentioned it, or she'd imagined Elliot mentioning it, she desperately wanted something. She was pretty sure there were a couple of beers in her fridge, though she wasn't sure they were still ok to drink. There was hard liquor, she always kept it around to prove to herself that she wasn't her mother and wasn't going to crawl into a bottle no matter how tough her life might get, but something told her that was a bad idea. Not the liquor itself, but the consumption of it anywhere around her newly single partner with the incredible body and deliciously intense blue eyes.

He didn't take the steps to her door as she expected. Instead he motioned toward the end of the block with his hand, while he crowded under her umbrella with her. "There's a bar a couple blocks down."

"Should I ask how you know there's a bar right by my apartment?" She knew of its existence because there had been times when she was tempted to tie one on there if only because she'd be able to walk home afterwards.

He shook his head like he was disappointed in her. "I've been driving you home for a decade, Liv."

And driving past the bar on his way out. She felt like an idiot. "I'll get the first round."

"Is there going to be a second round?" When she smiled, he slung his arm around her shoulders. "It's my lucky night. Getting tanked with a hot chick."

Thankfully her honest laughter at his words covered her utter nervousness at the feeling of his arm around her. It was a very rare occasion that the man was affectionate with her. He didn't even flirt with her much the way he had in years past. She didn't want to make him think she was rattled by his touch lest she dissuade it, but she feared ignoring the gesture would be too obvious. So she nudged him in the side with her arm.

"And here I thought beer goggles didn't kick in until after you started drinking."

Apparently chastised by her joke, Elliot dropped his arm back to his side, making it that much more awkward to share the umbrella without bumping into each other with every step.

The quiet stretched out, slowly morphing from awkward to the normal quiet that surrounded them most of the time they were together. They didn't need to speak even after they entered the bar. Olivia had already volunteered to get the first round and so went directly to the bar while Elliot chose a booth near the front window. He was staring at his hands when she returned with two beer bottles.

She slid into the seat across from him, wondering why he'd suddenly lapsed into quiet thought. If he hadn't been in the mood for company, he wouldn't have invited her for a drink. Which left her to fear that she'd somehow insulted him without meaning to, maybe over the arm thing.

"Did you want something on tap?" She knew his bowed head had nothing to do with the beer. They'd been buying each other drinks for years and he'd never once objected to a bottle of beer.

His head snapped up, his eyes moving quickly to the bottle before him and then to her. "No, no, this is fine." He didn't look angry. He didn't look sad. In fact, if he hadn't just zoned out on her she would have thought nothing was wrong at all.

Taking a long draw from her bottle, she gave herself a moment to pick a way to approach him. Direct questioning rarely worked. Subtle inquiries never worked. Starting a fight with him was the only reliable way to elicit any information from him and she wasn't in the mood for that. Perhaps he had just remembered that they'd been arguing all day and he was still mad about it.

She steeled herself for him to get pissed off and decided direct was the way to go. "What's wrong?"

His brow furrowed a bit as he met her stare. "Nothing. Something wrong with you?"

She shook her head, wondering how he could seem so sincere. "No, you just kind of shut down on me there for a minute. Did you change your mind?"

"About what?" He took a swallow of his beer, his eyes dropping from hers, moving down to his hand again.

Realizing she'd completely lost his attention again that quickly and feeling a bit emboldened by the one sip of beer she'd had, she reached out, closing her hand over his, getting his attention back the only way she could think of. "What's going on, El?"

He looked up, surprised by her touch, but still grinning the slightest bit. "Sorry. Just thinking." His eyes moved around the bar. "It's getting pretty busy in here. Good thing we already have a table."

"It's Friday." She could hardly blame him for forgetting that Friday meant something to normal people; she was usually shocked to discover the surge of traffic at rush hour from people who had such things as regular working hours.

He looked back at her. "Guess I lost track after last week."

"You and me both."

His eyes darted down once again, as though he couldn't wait to get out of the conversation with her to get back to staring at his hands.

And then she realized he wasn't staring at his hands. He was staring at his wrist, the one with the tattoo he'd lied to his son about.

"So who is she?"

He glanced at her again while he took another sip. "Who's who?"

"The girl."

"What girl?" He looked around, seemingly hoping to spot a woman that might explain the conversation.

She shook her head, feeling bad for the man who honestly believed he'd been subtle about where his thoughts had been. "The girl that tattoo is about."

His guilt forced him to look at the tattoo even as he tried to brush her off. "What makes you think it's about a girl?" As if his blush didn't give him away as well.

"The only reason you would lie to Dickie would be to keep your ex-wife from finding out and since she's your ex-wife, the only thing you'd want to hide from her would have to have something to do with a girl."

"She's my ex-wife. What makes you think I'd bother hiding something from her?" The tattoo no longer held his gaze. The volley back and forth was more enticing.

She scoffed. "Because you're the type of guy who actually gives a shit what his ex-wife thinks of him."

He nodded. "You've got me there. I've known Kathy for almost thirty years. I don't want her to hate my guts."

"She'd never hate you, El. You're impossible to hate. Believe me, I've tried." And she had. It would be so much better for her psychological state if she could get the man out from under her skin.

His smile faltered for a moment, initially interpreting her comment as an insult. But then he started to grin, certainly recalling quite a few times he'd wanted to wring her neck.

She shared a warm smile with him then, each of them remembering the things they'd been through together. He had a point – they'd survived untold attacks and bullets and knives and whatnots – and they were still kicking. Still together.

"By your own admission, you're never getting away from me, so you might as well tell me about her."

Shaking his head, he finished off his beer and slid to the edge of the booth. "You ready for another?"

When he returned, he pretended he didn't know any better. "Where were we?"

"You were just about to give in and tell me about the love of your life emblazoned on your wrist that even your ex-wife doesn't know about."

He narrowed his eyes at her, but he wasn't the least bit upset when he sighed. "What makes you think Kathy doesn't know about her?"

"Ha! I knew it was a girl!" As happy as she was to drag that much data out of him, she was actually disappointed. Because it would have been hard enough to hear some convoluted tale that had to do with the woman to whom he'd been married for most of his life, to discover that there was yet another woman before her in his heart hurt more than she wanted to admit.

The pain must have showed on her face because he immediately tried to soothe it.

"You're right, though." Telling her she was right about something usually worked wonders on her mood and he knew it. "Kathy asked about it once, but I never told her the truth."

The surprise of that revelation erased the hurt. "Seriously?" She couldn't believe he'd managed to keep anything from his wife for so long. He'd told Dickie he'd had it since the teen was little. She'd been pissed off that he'd waited months to reveal his separations, both times; she couldn't imagine how crazy that tattoo must have made his wife.

He nodded. "It's not like I don't have other tattoos."

"Yeah, but it's the only one that's not self-explanatory."

"Oh, it's self-explanatory."

"Maybe to a mathematician." Her eyes dropped to the digits on his arm, trying to work out some sort of pattern to the numbers. If they meant something, and clearly they did, it wasn't something she was going to figure out by staring at the upside down ink from across the table.

He knew she was looking and that was probably why he moved his arm, hiding his wrist under the edge of the table. "It means something to me."

"Which would explain why you got a tattoo of whatever it is."

"Right."

"How about you just tell me about her and then we can talk about something else?" The more he didn't want to tell her, the more she wanted to know. It was evidentially very important to him and since she already knew everything else that was very important to him, she thought she ought to make it a clean sweep. Not to mention that she was extremely disturbed by the notion that there was something he didn't trust her enough to reveal.

"How about you just drop it?"

"I'll drop it." She folded her arms over her chest and sat back, willing to plant herself there for the rest of time until he folded. "About two seconds after you tell me and I realize it's so lame only you would be embarrassed by it."

"I'm not embarrassed by it." Then he mirrored her position, staring across the table.

"Then why won't you just spit it out?" It was starting to make her crazy. Clearly it wasn't something awful that ended badly or his mood would have soured long before she'd gotten so obsessed with it.

"Gee, I can't imagine why I wouldn't want to confide in you."

Her lips curled down into a pout. "Please?"

He closed his eyes, shaking his head as he relaxed and rested his arms on the table top again. "Tell you what – if you want to guess, I'll tell you whether you're right or wrong."

"I already guessed it had something to do with a girl." She nearly stomped her feet under the table, except she'd started to suspect that her immature reaction was driving Elliot to play with her.

"Then you know what it is."

Instead of stomping, she slid her foot forward, kicking him in the shin. "But what girl? How am I supposed to guess when I apparently know very little about you?"

"Then ask."


	3. Chapter 3

Part Three

The simple statement threw her. Quite possibly more than the damn mystery tattoo had. What they knew about each other, which granted after so many years was damn near everything, hadn't been eagerly shared over beer and pizza. Neither of them were much for talking, certainly not about personal things, and so they only learned things as they came up. Of course, her personal things – the circumstances of her conception, her mother's alcoholism, her abuse as a child – had come out much sooner than Elliot's had. But she figured that was because she'd simply decided to test Elliot's trust by revealing the things that defined her and seeing if he turned out to be worthy of that trust. But Elliot, he was different. It didn't matter if he trusted her or not. He just didn't share things unless it was absolutely necessary, and usually not even then. For instance, while she'd long known Elliot's childhood hadn't been a pleasant one, she didn't know the half of it until she introduced herself to his mother without his knowledge.

The fact that he was just putting it out there that she might simply ask him something and he'd answer amazed her.

And belied the evening so far.

She gathered her scattered thoughts together and raised one eyebrow at her partner. "So are we playing Twenty Questions or Truth or Dare?"

For just a moment, his eyes seemed to sparkle. But then he hid his amusement behind a mask of disinterest and shrugged. "Then don't ask."

She wasn't about to let him back out of it, not like she'd let him pull his arm away from her earlier. "No, give me a minute. I need to think of something good."

His eyes widened, as though he'd finally realized exactly what he'd suggested. He swallowed hard. "You want another beer?"

"You haven't finished yours yet." She knew he was just trying to get away from her, as though the act of moving might erase the idea from her mind like a good shake to an Etch-A-Sketch. "Are you that afraid of telling me your deep dark secrets?"

The idea of asking him, of finding out anything about him that she wanted to know blew her mind. She wanted to know about the tattoo, of course, but there were so many other things. When he simply stared at her from his seat across from her, she realized she needed to start out slowly or risk scaring him away.

"I don't have any deep dark secrets." His face was serious as he met her eyes. "What do you want to know?"

She nodded at the wrist that had been ever so popular that evening. "Does Kathy know?"

"Didn't we just cover this?" He tipped his head back, gulping down his beer like a frat boy after a whole day sober. "You sure you don't want another beer?"

She giggled, drawn in by how obviously her partner was trying to hide something from her while she'd swear he actually wanted her to know. "Does Kathy know about her?"

With a sigh, Elliot sat back against the booth. "Sort of. My turn."

She laughed again, her genuine amusement with his reaction pulling a laugh from him as well. "Sort of is not an answer. You're still in the hot seat, El."

"Except sort of is the answer. You're not playing by the rules. You didn't even ask me if I wanted a dare."

Trying to keep her laughter back that time, since she doubted Elliot would much enjoy that she was laughing at his attempt to pout, she cocked an eyebrow. "Like you would have taken a dare."

His eyes sparkled and she realized he probably hadn't had so much fun in years. Come to think of it, neither had she.

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because you're not drunk yet." She rolled her eyes to punctuate her statement. Obviously the man had no idea how transparent he could be.

"Do I really strike you as the sort who would back down from a dare, Olivia?" As if his thick, lowered voice wasn't enough, he leaned forward, holding her eyes with a piercing stare and a smirk curling one side of his mouth. He had to be the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. And she wasn't drunk yet either.

God, she really wanted to dare him to do something crazy. A couple more beers and she probably would. She tried to hide her reaction to him by taking a long drink from her beer. "Fine. Truth or dare, El?"

With a shit-eating grin he met her stare. "Truth."

"You fucking-" She couldn't finish; she was too busy laughing. She picked up one of the pretzels from the basket between them and threw it at him. "Define sort of."

Satisfied that he'd won the round, he picked up the pretzel from the table where it had fallen after bouncing off his shoulder. "Kathy knows that I have the tattoo, but not what it means. And Kathy knows about her, but not that she has anything to do with the tattoo." He broke off of piece of the pretzel and put it in his mouth before offering the other half to her.

She loved that about him. There was a full basket of bite-sized pretzels between them and still he broke his in half to share with her. Settling down in her seat, she didn't even plan to speak, she just wanted to get to know the man she thought she knew so well. "Tell me about her."

"Oh, no you don't." He shook his head and smiled. "Truth or dare?"

Shit. She forgot that playing the game meant taking her turn as well. Getting him to open up would involve opening up herself.

"Should we get another round?" It wasn't a conscious stall tactic. She just thought it would be best that she had enough beer to give herself an excuse for anything embarrassing she might say.

"I expect an answer when I get back."

In the interest of keeping things fair, she fished some cash out of her bag and left it on the table. She knew his monthly child support payment was eating him alive and she'd feel too guilty to let him buy more than his half.

He retook his place, four bottles in his hand. "Just in case you get really thirsty."

She loved that he was planning to be there long enough for them to have two more beers each. "Ok, truth." Might as well get the simple stuff out of the way first, she figured. He knew most everything about her anyway.

"How old were you your first time?" He hadn't paused. He hadn't danced around it. Clearly, it was something he wanted to know to come up with it that fast.

She almost pointed out that the sex questions usually waited until just before the dares, when the alcohol had been flowing for some time and that the two usually were quickly blurred into one.

But rather than playing coy, she smiled and answered him back as quickly as he'd asked. "Fourteen." If he was trying to throw her off balance with his candidness, she was happy to do the same.

Apparently, as much as he wanted to know, he hadn't been expecting that number. He nearly choked on his mouthful of beer. "Jesus. You're kidding."

Shrugging one shoulder, she tried to play it cool. Of course it had been a disaster and she'd regretted it for years, but it had been a hell of a long time and she didn't care anymore. "It wasn't like I was afraid of going to hell, not that the idea of going to hell stopped you."

He swallowed hard. "It stopped me for a while. I definitely wasn't fourteen."

She smiled, imagining that if they'd met back then, the rebellious girl she'd been would have scared the shit out of the god-fearing boy. "I assume you're sticking with truth?" She waited for his nod of agreement. "Tell me about her."

"That's not phrased as a question."

"You know I'm not going to let this go." At least not until she was drunk and moved onto asking embarrassing questions that revealed more about her and her feelings than him. "Tell me something about her."

His eyes darted down to his wrist while a smile crawled across his face. "I knew the moment I met her that she was the most amazing woman in the world."

Olivia picked up her bottle and tried to bury her disappointment by staring at the label thoughtfully. She'd thought Kathy was an obstacle. But, shit, some mystery woman he waxed all poetic over was worse. She looked up and spoke before Elliot had the chance to ask.

"Dare." With her luck, he'd ask why she suddenly looked like she wanted to cry. And god help her, she might actually tell him.

He was startled for a moment, staring at her with his mouth open until his eyes narrowed and he picked up on her discomfort. "Are you ok?"

Pushing the hurt back, she smiled at him. "I said 'dare.'"

He nodded at the mostly full bottle in her hands. "I dare you to chug that whole thing."

She was relieved, either he wasn't any good at making up dares, not that anyone ever was, or her choice had thrown him enough that he hadn't been able to think of anything particularly daring. She cocked an eyebrow at him. "You trying to get me drunk, Stabler?"

Judging from his grin, she suspected that was, in fact, the goal. "Bottoms up."

Clearing her throat, she lifted the bottle and took a deep breath. She hadn't chugged anything since – well, shit, too long to remember. Pride demanded that she do it and she'd be damned if she was going to make an ass out of herself so early in the evening. She put the bottle to her lips and titled it back.

She was really proud of herself that the only outward sign of her body's anger at her behavior was slightly watery eyes. She blinked back the moisture and picked up a handful of pretzels. Three beers and no dinner and a grinning, gorgeous partner. The evening was spiraling out of control already. She'd meant to elicit information out of her partner about his damn tattoo, not make herself look stupid.

But she couldn't help feeling proud of the way Elliot seemed truly impressed.

Naturally, she played it down. "It wasn't even a whole beer, El. Next time you'll have to think of something half decent."

He took a sip from his bottle. "Guess so."

It took her a moment to recover, the heat from the alcohol starting to run through her veins. She closed her eyes, reveling in the pleasant buzz that had settled around her.

"You all right over there?"

Her eyes shot open, somehow surprised to hear his voice. He looked worried, his forehead wrinkled between his eyebrows.

A lazy smile formed without her consent. "Oh, yeah, I'm good." She hadn't expected the ramifications of that dare, that she would reveal her pathetic lightweight status to the man she was sure could drink half his body weight in beer and still not be drunk. With nothing better to do, she reached for the second beer, pleased that she was getting to it fast enough for it to still be cold.

The feeling of his hand on her arm made her jump, spilling the brown liquid onto both their hands. "What?"

He'd already jerked his hand away, as though he meant to pretend he'd never touched her. "Maybe you should slow down."

She snorted in an indelicate way she never would have dared had she not been buzzed. "You're the one who told me to drink!"

He winced. "I didn't think you'd actually do it."

And then she remembered his earlier words and was happy to throw them back in his face. "Do I really strike you as the sort who would back down from a dare, Elliot?" She made sure to copy his posture too, leaning over the table and holding his stare.

Holding his stare until his eyes dropped down to the neck of her sweater that had fallen open when she leaned.

She couldn't help but giggle as she sat back. She imagined an unencumbered view down her shirt was probably as distracting to him as that fucking grin he'd teased her with. Feeling that she'd evened the playing field, what with the way forced himself to swallow and then chugged half of his own beer, she was once again able to concentrate on the task at hand – getting him to explain that damn tattoo.


	4. Chapter 4

Part Four

"Truth or dare?" She really hadn't intended to speak in a low, sultry tone, but when his eyes riveted to hers, almost comically wide, she wondered if maybe she had.

He swallowed hard again. "Truth." There was something in his voice that said he was petrified of any dares she might issue.

She couldn't wait until he was drunk enough to challenge her. Of course, she couldn't wait until she was drunk enough to challenge him either. As he reached for a pretzel, her eyes fell on the tattoo again. If he kept choosing truth, she'd eventually get the whole story out of him.

"You said you knew right away." Nodding at the tattoo, she rolled her beer bottle between her hands. "How soon after you met her did you decide she was worthy of a tattoo?"

His cheeks colored red, though it could easily have been the beer. His head was ducked down when he muttered his response. "I knew the day I met her, I told you that. But I waited a week for this." He lifted his wrist, as though there might be anything else they could possibly be talking about.

She blamed it on the alcohol when she laughed. "A whole week, huh?"

He shook his head as the blush continued to keep down his neck. Definitely not the alcohol causing that. "It was instantaneous. I knew I'd never forget her."

"Then why'd you need a tattoo if you were never going to forget her?"

"Because I wanted to keep her close to me."

That time, she was laughing too hard to even be jealous. "You're fucking kidding me, right?" She could barely spit the words out. The Elliot she knew was just not that romantic or sentimental or silly.

But her laughter had chased away his good mood. "Fuck you, Olivia." He sat back, folded his arms across his chest, and glared at her.

His anger did stop her from laughing, but the glare did nothing to drive his point home. It just made her want him more. He had no idea how hot she found him when he was pissed off. "Sorry." She averted her eyes and sipped her beer. "You just never struck me as a guy who would do that corny shit."

He shrugged. "Now you understand why I didn't tell Kathy."

She met his eyes again. "Because you don't have any tattoos for her." At least that made her feel a bit better, knowing she wasn't the only woman in his life that wasn't indelibly inked onto his skin.

He nodded. "And don't think I didn't notice you sliding in a second question there. Truth or dare?" She opted for truth, fearing another beer chugging would result in her puking on the table. He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke again. "Do you have any tattoos?"

"Yes. I have one." She watched as his eyes widened the slightest bit. She knew he'd never imagined that she did and now that he knew, his thoughts were running away with it.

He gulped. "Can I see it?"

She laughed. "No. Truth or dare?"

"Hey, I get two questions!" The idea of her having a secret tattoo had apparently erased his foul mood over her laughing at him.

"You got them. Yes, I have a tattoo and no, you can't see it."

He narrowed his eyes like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. "Fine." Then he smiled. "Dare."

She had not been expecting that. Which was, more than likely, precisely why he'd chosen it. Taking in the crowd around them, which had been growing steadily since they arrived and had since reached claustrophobic levels if one was so inclined, she knew there were a lot of desperate people among them. For the briefest moment, she wondered if one of the women might have too much to drink or leave too late or be there with someone she didn't really know and wind up in their case files. She forced the thought from her mind and turned back to her partner.

"I dare you to kiss one of the women in this bar in the next ten minutes." She didn't bother to look at her watch. She was certain if Elliot tried to kiss anyone, they'd all be willing. Hell, they'd line up around the block for him. Or maybe that was just her desperation talking.

His eyes widened, but only slightly and only for a second. "Not a chance. I don't know any of these women and I have no desire to catch something from one of them."

"I thought you weren't the type to back down from a dare, El. Or are you really just a chicken shit?" She grinned at his discomfort, secretly quite pleased that he wouldn't go kiss some random stranger in front of her.

"Ok, fine. I'll do it." His eyes found hers while he remained completely cool. "But it's going to have to be someone I know."

She was fairly certain her heart was beating so loudly he could hear it across the table. "How many women do you know here?"

"Just the one." He grinned, the lighthearted smile seeming out of place with the dark heat of his stare. In a flash he'd moved around the table, sitting on the seat next to her. "Come here."

She jerked back, just as his hand was moving toward her cheek. Maybe he was serious. Maybe he was calling her bluff. She figured it was better that she back away before he could. It took all of her strength to feign indifference as she pushed at him playfully while she prayed with all of her might that he'd insist. "I didn't mean me."

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "You said one of the women in the bar. I think you fit that description." Regardless of her rebuff, he didn't move, as though he fully intended to go through with his dare no matter what she said.

The idea caused her to shiver quite noticeably.

Which he completely misinterpreted.

He was back on his side of the booth in less than a second, his grip so tight around his beer Olivia was afraid it might shatter in his hand. "So, Olivia, truth or dare?" She couldn't believe he still wanted to play when he was pissed off.

And she really wanted to know if he actually thought she'd let him kiss her, their first kiss, on a dare as a joke in a crowded bar. "Truth."

He was quiet, his fist still closed around the bottle, the veins still jumping out of his neck. Even so, he faked a smile at her. "I need a minute to think."

And then she realized he wasn't mad. He was hurt. And he was trying to pretend that he wasn't because he was embarrassed that he was hurt over her refusing to let him kiss her. She almost squealed with happiness. Except, she realized, that the beer she was steadily draining might have something to do with her optimistic interpretation of Elliot's mood.

"Where do you like to be kissed?"

Clearly he wasn't getting over her slight. She rolled her eyes. "Anywhere besides a crowded bar."

He chuckled, his hands finally loosening from his beer. "I meant on your body. Where on your body do you like to be kissed?"

"Oh." Oh, indeed. Jesus. She was tempted to tell him to try and figure it out. She bit her lip, feeling stupid for feeling embarrassed about anything in front of her partner of so many years. Still, it seemed terribly intimate. And quite possibly a cruel way for him to twist his discomfort back on her.

But it was a game about truth, after all.

Slowly, she raised her hand, drawing her fingers along her neck, behind the curve of her jaw, just under her ear lobe. "Here."

She could have sworn his eyes darkened two shades right before her eyes. He cleared his throat when he looked away.

"You want another drink, Liv?"

"Sure. Decide on your way – truth or dare." And then she took a long swig of her beer.

The crowded bar caused a longer delay, leaving her sitting quietly to finish off her drink. He returned with his hands loaded, two shots in each, and a couple of beer bottles pinned between his arms and his stomach. She reached for the bottles, leaving him to set the shots down. "I'll be right back."

When he returned that time, he had a salt shaker, a bowl of lemon wedges, and a wicked grin.

"You really are trying to get me drunk, aren't you?" Not that she really minded.

He pushed one of the shots in front of her while he picked up one for himself. "If I say yes, will that count as my truth?"

"Not a chance in hell cause I already know the answer." She giggled. Although the universe was humming pleasantly around her, she still felt silly licking her wrist and dousing it with salt. It wasn't silly at all when Elliot did the same, though, and she squirmed in an effort to silence the moan that wanted to escape. She met his eyes, hoping her actions had the same effect on him when she licked the salt. Then she smiled, tapping her little plastic cup against his and downing the shot.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He was starting to feel the alcohol too. "Truth."

Though she was definitely tipsy, his wrist was lying on the table, reminding her she wanted to know about it. "So you said you've had that since Dickie was little, which could have been a lie since your explanation to him was complete bs." She shook her head, trying to remain focused on what she was saying. "Anyway, are you still in touch with her?"

Elliot kept his eyes on the table for a long time, something that Olivia suspected was to keep him from revealing that he was buzzed too. "That part wasn't bs."

Boldly, or rather boldly intoxicated, she reached across the table, her fingers grazing across the design on his wrist. "Look at me." When he finally did, she smiled. "I can't tell if you're lying when you don't look at me."

"That part wasn't bs." He held her eyes, almost daring her to look away when his other hand moved over, trapping her hand against his wrist. "Yeah, I'm still in touch with her." He glanced at their hands, as though checking to make sure they were really sitting there like that, then back up at her. "So, truth or dare?"

His eyes were absolutely mesmerizing on a good day. And on a day where she'd been drinking and he was touching her, doubly so. She swallowed hard and tried to think straight. "Um, uh –" He smiled at her inability to form words, teasing her more by rubbing his fingertips ever so gently against the back of her hand.

It couldn't be real. None of it. Not the flirting, not the touching. She was pretty sure she was dreaming the entire night up. Maybe she'd fallen asleep at her desk. Since it was all imaginary, she figured she might as well enjoy it.

She grinned back. "Truth."

He sat up, slowly pulling his hands away. "Where's the craziest place you've ever had sex."

She'd had sex in quite a few ridiculous places, but the craziest, well, he'd asked and tequila never helped people make good decisions. "The back of a car."

"A car?" He looked like he was about to proclaim he'd been ripped off.

She cut in before he could start. "A squad car."

His protest was silenced completely.

She smirked. "While I was working."

He started to laugh.

But he had yet to hear the zinger. She cocked an eyebrow at him and hoped she wasn't about to give him a heart attack. "With my partner."

She'd never once seen Elliot's face so pale, not even when he'd been shot. She started to regret having been honest. "You ok over there?"

It took a long time before he even blinked, then finally shook his head. "No. I'm definitely not ok."

She shrugged, the buzz keeping the embarrassment from setting in. "You asked."

"I'm not sure I really wanted to know." He ducked his head, repeating the process with the salt before pouring the second shot straight back. He waited for a moment with the lemon wedge in his mouth and then nodded at her remaining shot. "You planning on drinking that?"

She copied his actions up to pouring salt over her wrist. Then she paused, an inkling of good sense popping her drunken bubble. "I'm not sure I should have another. At least not yet." She pushed the cup across the table. "You have it."

He stared at the shot for a long time, so long Olivia wasn't sure he remembered what he meant to do. But then he was reaching out, grabbing her hand, pulling her arm across the table, lifting her wrist to his mouth.

A second later, his tongue was on her, licking the salt from her skin.

He dropped her hand and downed the last shot before she'd quite figured out what the fuck was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

Part Five

She wasn't positive, but if someone told her she was having a heart attack she wouldn't have been the least bit surprised. She knew it wasn't healthy for her heart to be beating quite that fast. And it really wasn't healthy for her to display such weakness in front of the man who didn't seem to have registered that he'd crossed a line.

Not that she wanted to deter him from crossing it much further than that.

Her hand was shaking when she pulled it back to her side of the table. She couldn't bring herself to pull it into her lap. She wanted to be accessible if he decided to do it again. Pressing her palm flat on the table was the only way to keep it from shaking, so she did, concentrating on that and nothing else. Her partner, the man she'd quietly lusted after for years, had licked her.

Christ.

There was only one problem. The man had been steady imbibing all evening. He'd just downed three shots of tequila in rapid succession. He trusted her enough to let his guard down in front of her. And the only way to preserve that trust was to refuse to take advantage of him, to stop him from doing something when he was drunk that he would never do sober, to prevent him from making a huge mistake he would regret in the morning, to deny herself the thing she wanted so badly.

It felt like forever and still not enough time before she forced herself to meet his eyes.

And she could have sworn he wasn't the slightest bit drunk.

Her heart started to pound a little bit harder when a sexy smirk curved his lips. She hated that he made her so nervous. He hadn't made her nervous the day they'd met. Or ever in between. But still, he was making her nervous. She hated that he knew it too. Forcing out her shaky voice, she tried to pretend everything was normal.

"S-s-so whose turn is it?"

He was chuckling at her, taking a slow pull from his beer. His throat worked to swallow and she watched his Adam's apple bob, trying to deny that she wouldn't mind tasting it. "I could take advantage of this, you know."

Damn that fucking grin of his.

Damn him for finally figuring out what it did to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I think you just did."

He laughed, the sexy intensity of his eyes diminishing the slightest bit for only a second. "You liked it."

"You licked me. What are you, a puppy?"

He had her. They both knew it. But that didn't mean she had to admit it.

"Truth or dare, Liv?"

She grinned at him. "I think it's my turn, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Does it matter? You going to ask about the tattoo and I'm not going to tell you anything useful, so why waste the time?"

Refusing to give him the point, she didn't look away as she demanded control back. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"What's her name?" They both knew she was obsessed with the damn tattoo, no sense in beating around the bush.

He shook his head. "No way. I'll take the dare."

"You can't do that!"

"I just did."

She really wanted to stomp her feet again. "But that's against the rules."

"When have we ever followed the rules?" His grin returned, somewhat dangerous as she continued to drink her beer. "Besides we're adults. We can play by our own rules."

She pouted at him, wishing she were sober enough to come up with a logical dispute. "Changing the rules because you don't like them isn't being an adult. It's being childish."

He shrugged. "So? I'm still not telling."

She shrugged back at him. "Fine. Then I dare you to answer the question."

"Now who's being childish?" He was laughing, evidently amused by her desire to have information he wouldn't share.

"Still you." Though she suspected that pouting was hardly a mature response.

"You forfeit. My turn. Truth or dare?"

"When did I forfeit?" She wasn't sure that stomping her feet was any more childish than pouting and therefore wasn't sure why she was resisting the urge.

"When you stopped playing by the rules and tried to ask a question when I said 'dare.'"

Her mouth fell open, too drunk to realize he was joking. "Why do I have to play by the rules?"

He was laughing as he reached across the table, laying his hand over hers. "Shhhhhh. You're shouting."

Too pissed off to enjoy the feel of his fingers rubbing her skin, she snatched her hand back. "How are you still sober?"

"I'm not sober, Liv. Trust me on that." His hands moved back, curling around his beer bottle. "Truth or dare, Liv?"

Begrudgingly she sighed, knowing she wasn't sober enough to win an argument with her partner. Hell, even when she was sober she couldn't win an argument with him. Usually, they just ended in a draw with both of them walking away. "Truth."

He grinned, like he was quite pleased with her choice, making her rethink her decision. "What about a guy turns you on?"

He knew the answer. He had to. Because as he was asking, he unbuttoned the cuffs of his dress shirt and started rolling up his sleeves.

She wondered if he'd accept it as an answer if she just sat there drooling. But she knew he wouldn't. Part of the fun was getting her to say it to his face. Which was exactly why it was making her nuts that he was playing keep-away with the information on the tattoo he was flaunting.

She took a sip of beer and steeled herself for his laughter. "Muscular arms." But really, it wasn't the truth. At least, it wasn't the whole truth. Because mostly strong, solid arms turned her off. She was scared of men who were so very strong that she didn't stand a damn chance of defending herself against them. What really turned her on were Elliot's strong arms, because she trusted him to never use his strength against her.

He stared at her, seemingly surprised by the answer. His eyes darted down, following her hand as she reached across the table. Her fingers just barely made contact, her fingertips lighting tracing the contours of his forearm. She shivered again, completely forgetting to remind herself that it was just a game. She couldn't stop herself from touching him, feeling the heat of his skin, the solidity of his muscles underneath.

But the way he growled at her stole her attention from his beautiful arms.

His eyes were narrowed, the veins popping out on his neck. "Careful, Liv."

Everything about the man right then screamed danger, loss of control, violence, and yet her hand was glued to his arm, challenging him to keep it together. Or to lose it. She wasn't sure which.

She smiled. "What?"

"I just told you I'm drunk."

She giggled stupidly. "So am I."

"So I'm warning you. You need to stop that."

But how could his heated stare mean anything other than keep going?

Thoroughly amused that she was getting a reaction from him, she purred the question at him, watching as her voice only served to heighten his discomfort. "Truth or dare, El?"

"Truth, but only if you ask me something that doesn't have to do with my tattoo. Otherwise, I quit."

She was tempted to ask anyway, except she was pretty sure he wasn't kidding, if her drunken assessment was to be trusted. "Ok, fine, but just this once or I get to dictate the topics of my questions too." When he nodded his assent, she continued. "What's your worst memory of school?"

He laughed, even as his face reddened. "First day of first grade." He stopped long enough to finish the last of his beer. "My dad gave me five bucks to buy my lunch, but the school didn't have a cafeteria. The teacher tells everyone to go to the closet and get their lunch boxes and I go looking for one with my name on it-"

She couldn't help but jump in. "And there isn't one because you didn't bring one."

He nodded. "Exactly. Everyone else has their sandwiches and thermoses and I'm standing there looking like an ass because I didn't have one." He shook his head, as if he wanted the memory to go away. "I just started crying – and I mean hysterically here – and the teacher tried to find out what was wrong and then the principal and eventually, after I'd cried all afternoon, they called my dad at work to come get me."

She couldn't help it, she had to laugh, imagining a grown up Elliot crying over his missing lunch box.

He shrugged, reaching across the table for her beer. "It seems funny now, but at the time it was terribly traumatic." He took a sip and then pushed the beer back at her. "My father put me in a different school the next week. Said he didn't want everyone knowing I was such a pussy."

And then she winced, knowing there was nothing funny about that. Much like her childhood, she knew Elliot's was filled with landmines. She'd thought asking about school would be ok, except that eventually everything led back to home.

She stretched her arm across the table, running her fingers over his forearm again. "Well, you're certainly not a pussy anymore."

"Truth or dare?" His eyes were dark and begging to get into trouble.

And Olivia wasn't about to disappoint him. "Dare."

He nodded past her toward the bar. "See that guy at the corner of the bar?" She checked over her shoulder and saw him, the Ken doll come to life, all obnoxious smugness, then she nodded. "I've seen him turn away about twenty women since he came in. I dare you to go over there and get his phone number."

Though she knew it would take all over her concentration to walk the ten feet to where he was standing without falling flat on her face, Olivia had every intention of doing it. She smiled at Elliot, took a sip of her beer, and slid to the edge of the booth. "Consider it done."

She didn't know what was behind his decision to send her to flirt with someone else, but she didn't care. The alcohol was buzzing through her veins and it made her want to be wanted. By as many men as possible. And if Elliot wanted to watch, whatever. She carefully sidled up to the mark, pretending to be completely embarrassed when she bumped into his arm.

"Oh, sorry." Her eyes darted up at him, assessing him from close up. He was good looking, tall, and wearing an expensive suit. She wasn't at all surprised that he'd been turning women away. He looked to be the discerning type.

"No problem." He didn't hide that he was checking her out.

But she pretended not to be interested as she craned her neck to see the bartender. Waiting until the barkeep was absolutely not looking, she waved her hand. "Hey, can I get a beer?"

Like magic, a beer appeared in front of her. "Here, haven't touched it."

Olivia smiled at the man, but shook her head. "No, thanks, I can get my own." She leaned forward, catching the bartender's eyes and winking, the man immediately responding with a beer.

He was hooked, because she was the only woman so far that night who hadn't been trying to get a drink from him. "Come on, do I look untrustworthy or something?" He held his arms out to the side, inviting her to check him out.

She obliged, letting her eyes linger. "You look like a stock broker."

He grinned. "Is that a bad thing?"

"When the market's in the tank."

"I'm Brian." He held his hand out, holding her eyes with a warm smile. "And I'm a lawyer."

"Ouch, that's worse!" But Olivia smiled anyway, hiding her immediate distrust of him because of his profession. "I'm Olivia." She obediently shook his hand, not a bit surprised when the touch lingered.

"Hurry and finish that so I can buy you another."

She laughed, glancing in the mirror behind the bar to catch sight of Elliot staring. She turned back to Brian, leaning over to close the distance between them, pretending to lose her balance. "You trying to get me drunk, Brian?"

His hand immediately went to her hip to steady her. "Looks like you're already there."

His touch felt warm against her body and for a moment, it wasn't a game. He was exactly the guy she'd go for out of the crowd that night, something she suspected Elliot knew. She didn't know him for shit, but she was drunk and he was friendly.

"You're probably right." She pulled herself up to stand on her own, finding that Brian's hand stayed on her back. "I'm not one for going home with strangers when I'm drunk, Brian."

He smiled. "Good to know. I'd love to give you a call sometime when you're sober."

Silly boy. Playing right into her hand. "I'd rather call you."

Out came the notebook from his pocket, along with a pen. He scrawled his name and number on the page and offered it to her. "I really hope you use this."

She leaned over again, letting her body once again balance against his. It felt so good to feel a man against her like that. It had been a long time. And it didn't appear that Elliot was ever going to take the hint. Brian might not be such a bad thing. "Oh, I'll use it."

She was leaning into him and he was smiling down at her and then his face started moving closer. Her heart started to flutter at the idea that she was actually going to get a kiss from the hot guy.

And then there was something around her, just above her waist, pulling her backwards, yanking her off balance. She smacked into something hard and unyielding.

"Hey-" She didn't get the words out before she could smell him, his breath on her ear as he hissed at her.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

She turned toward her suddenly possessive partner. "What do you think I'm doing?" He had been the one to send her over to Brian, after all.

His eyes were hard and dark and almost frightening as he glared at Brian. "She's spoken for, buddy."

Brian looked shocked, his confused eyes turning to hers. "Olivia?"

She could barely get a full breath in with how tight Elliot's arm was holding her. Rather disappointed that she wasn't getting to kiss Brian, while entirely giddy at the idea that Elliot was jealous, she shrugged. "Didn't know I was."

With one arm still locked around her, Elliot grabbed Olivia's beer as well as the one Brian had offered her, and dragged her back to the table. He sat down so quickly that she had no choice but to join him, his arm practically guiding her half onto his lap.

By the time she was steady enough to look at him, he was downing half the beer.

And she wasn't sure she'd ever been so turned on in her life as she was by Elliot's insanely jealous display.

"What the fuck was that?"

He pulled the beer from his mouth, and set it on the table. "I think I just asked you that."

She honestly couldn't remember why she'd gone over there, not with Elliot so focused on her. She picked up her beer and tried to shift off his lap, but his arm didn't give. "You don't own me, you know."

His mouth, his lips, his breath were hot on her ear when he answered her. "Tell me you'd rather be over there with him."

Embarrassed that she was so obvious, she stopped wiggling and said nothing.

"I thought so."

And then, ever so lightly, she felt his lips move, slowly, carefully, until they landed there. On that spot. The very spot she'd told him about. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven when she felt his lips press against her skin, his tongue darting out to trace her jaw line and ear lobe.

He was right, she thought as she melted into his embrace. He did fucking own her. And they both knew it.


	6. Chapter 6

Part Six

Her head fell back, though she wasn't sure if it was due to him or because she was really fucking drunk. She strongly suspected it was because Elliot, however briefly, had had his mouth on her neck.

And she was kind of pissed that he didn't any longer.

And she was kind of thankful at the same time because holding her breath like that had made her dizzy. Though that too could have been due to Elliot.

His arm released from her waist and because her head was spinning, she reached out for something to steady her. She missed the table by a mile, her hand dropping heavily to the bench. Except it wasn't the bench. It was his thigh. And within a millisecond, his hand was over hers.

She meant to say something, preferably something sensible, but instead wound up staring at him, up close, with wide, drunken eyes. Her whole body was shaking and with the way she was perched in his lap, he had to know it.

He started to grin as his arms closed around her. One of his hands was planted just above her waist, in the center of her abdomen, keeping her secured in his lap. The other had drifted lower, finding the hem of her sweater, testing the boundaries. His fingers brushed lightly across her bare stomach, causing her entire body to shudder.

He chuckled, continuing to move his fingers in circles on her skin. "Am I making you nervous, Benson?"

As if he didn't know.

As if she was going to admit it.

She sucked it up, telling herself she wasn't going to back down again. Her eyes found his again, nearly melting from the heat she saw there. "What do you say we get out of here?"

The words fell out of her mouth without real thought; she knew she could blame them on alcohol yet she was unsure if the drinking was really the cause.

Like before, her husky voice caused his eyes to darken. "Is that a dare?" And then he was absolutely not grinning back. "Cause in that case, fuck yes."

She swallowed hard, the enormity of what she'd suggested, what he'd agreed to, sobering her the slightest bit. Slipping off his lap, she pushed herself to her feet long enough to retake her original seat across from him. "Maybe we should think about this." Thinking was the last thing she felt capable of at the moment – which was precisely was she needed to do it.

His eyes narrowed before they darted to his beer. It took no time at all for him to regain his composure as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Why? Haven't you ever thought about it?"

She felt her jaw drop open. Of course she had. But had he? Really? Enough that he was perfectly comfortable deciding it was the night to do it? She was truly surprised he was admitting it, intimating that he was ready for such a step. "So you have?"

He nodded once, his eyes dropping back to watch his hands twisting around the bottle. "Remember the McKinney case?"

She nodded. It was impossible to forget, too frustrating to ever let go of. A rapist who'd skated on a technicality, who'd then gone one to murder his next victim, leaving them both to feel horribly guilty for the woman's death.

"The night we caught it – the second time, I mean – we went out for a drink."

She recalled it well. It hadn't really been often in their partnership that they'd gone out with the sole purpose of drinking until it didn't hurt anymore. "Yeah, I remember." She wondered why he was bringing it up.

She remembered all too well how after a few drinks she'd started thinking his smiles and touches meant far more than they had. She remembered all too well how he'd seemed to linger at her door after insisting he see her home safe. She remembered all too well how desperately she'd wanted him to stay, to ask her if he could. She remembered all too well that she'd cried good and hard that night for something McKinney had nothing to do with.

He met her eyes again. "I wanted to take you home that night."

She smiled, hoping her face didn't give away the mortification she felt for nearly making an ass out of herself by getting drunk with him again. "You did take me home that night. Walked me right to my door and everything."

He shook his head. "No, I wanted to take you home-" He looked away, but only for a moment. "I wanted you to invite me in. I wanted to stay."

It had been years earlier. He'd still been married. And undoubtedly hadn't wanted to take that anger and frustration and pain out on his wife. For the first time, she was glad he'd walked away. She didn't want to be the outlet for emotions he didn't want to dump on anyone else. She wanted out of the conversation. Before she said something stupid that she couldn't blame on being drunk.

But Elliot wasn't about to let her go. "So what about you? You ever think about it?"

Only every waking moment and a good portion of the sleeping ones as well.

She shrugged, sipping at her beer to keep sobriety from crashing down around her. "Yeah, I guess."

He smiled. "Like when?" He wanted specifics.

Which she couldn't give him. Because the idea had really occurred to her so very many times that she couldn't pick out any special one.

He sensed her reluctance, though he missed the reason for it. "Come on, Liv, I showed you mine."

And there was her mouth, running off again without her permission. "Like when you get angry. Really fucking angry. When you lose your temper. It's the only time I see any real, honest, unmeasured emotion from you and I wonder what it would be like to have that intensity directed at me."

Who needed fucking truth serum when there was beer readily available? Jesus, she needed to get the fuck away from the man and stay the fuck away from the man until she was good and sober.

When she finally found the courage to look at him, he was staring right back. He seemed confused. Not surprised, just confused. She reached out and touched his hand. "What?"

His voice was soft when he spoke, as though her mention of his bent toward unbridled anger had chastised him. "You're not afraid? When I get like that?"

"No." She shook her head to emphasize her point. The only thing that scared her about him was how much she fucking loved him.

"Truth."

She stared at him, wondering what the hell he was talking about. "Huh?"

He shrugged. "Apparently we're not leaving, so it's my turn."

"Oh." She shook her head again, wishing she wasn't so drunk that her thoughts were fuzzy. But it didn't stop her from taking a long sip of her beer. "Why won't you tell me who she is?"

Once again, it was Elliot's turn to look baffled. "Who?"

Her hand move towards his, grabbing his arm, her fingers tapping the tattoo. "Her. Why won't you tell me?"

He turned his hand over, brushing his fingers along her palm as he pulled away. "I'll tell you someday."

Her hands moved to her beer, trying not to reveal her disappointment in her voice. "But not tonight."

"Not until I'm sure you can handle it."

Her eyes narrowed. She might be drunk and foggy, but she knew when she was being insulted. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." He bottomed out his beer. "I'm getting another. You want one?"

She nodded, realizing that her anger was fading regardless of her attempt to hold onto it. By the time he returned with a couple more beers, she'd already forgotten what he'd said.

He'd been counting on that and he grinned at her as he sat down. "Your turn. Truth or dare?"

Too tired to summon up the energy for a dare, she sighed. "Truth."

His eyes moved around as he thought and Olivia found it comforting to know that all the beer was messing with his head too. "How many men have you slept with?"

He would go there. With a faint growl, she kept up her policy of telling the complete truth. "None."

"You're lying."

She shook her head.

He scoffed at her. "You already said you lost your virginity at fourteen, so you can't claim to be a virgin now."

She smirked. "I'm not claiming to be a virgin. You wanted to know how many men I've slept with and I told you."

He nearly dropped the bottle from his hand. "Are you – I mean – You're telling me you're a lesbian?"

She laughed out loud, watching as her partner tried to decide if he was turned on or off or offended, and put him out of his misery. "No, that's not what I'm saying. Although I think that should count as a second question."

He smiled, untold relief flooding his face. "Damn, cause I was thinking you and Alex – that would be hot."

She giggled, recognizing that he was making a joke to hide his discomfort and his relief. "Actually, I had my eye on Casey." She leaned forward, distracting him once again with her cleavage. "Thought maybe the three of us could have a good time together."

Elliot threw back a good portion of his new beer and practically growled at her. "You're a fucking tease."

Normally, she would have been mad and disputed the point, but she was drunk. Instead she just laughed good and hard at the fact that her partner had pretty much just admitted to her face that he actually wanted her. She wondered how he liked it now that the shoe was on the other foot.

He glared at her, not appreciating her laughter the slightest bit. "You haven't answered the question."

"Yes, I did." She shrugged like she didn't care her partner was hanging on her every word. "You just don't believe me."

"Then explain how you can not be a virgin and have not slept with any men or women." His gaze was so intense she felt like she was suspect in the interrogation room with him.

Unfortunately, that put a whole host of bad ideas in her head which, due to the beer, she kind of wanted to share. She leaned her head to the side and smiled. "Have you ever fantasized about you and me in the interrogation room?"

The beer fell out of his hand, flopping onto its side and spilling out all over the table. Even as it dripped into her lap, she couldn't tear her eyes away from Elliot's. She'd wanted to see that heat, that emotion she only ever glimpsed when he was damn near psychotically angry.

And there it was.

Unharnessed emotion and desire and pure heat pooling behind his clear blue eyes.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, realizing that knowing he'd had the same fantasy of fucking her in that room as she'd had umpteen times didn't help matters any. She feared it might actually make things worse, considering that she'd eventually have to go in there with him again.

He reached out across the table, unconcerned about the beer pooling on the surface as he pushed his arm through it. His hand grabbed her arm, a little too tight, and he shook it. "Answer the fucking question."

She swallowed hard. She'd wanted that anger. She'd just told him so. And it sent another shiver down her spine as she sat there, holding his stare, letting him jerk her arm. She loved it and he knew it.

She rolled her eyes, trying to hold onto the last shreds of her dignity, not bothering to pull on the arm she knew he'd release if she tried. "So, I'll take that as a yes about the interrogation room." Feigning disinterest, she pushed some napkins onto the puddle. "You made a mess here."

He shook her arm again, and she fought the urge to tease him more.

"I never said I was a virgin. I'm not into women and I've never slept with a man." As she spoke, his grip tightened past the point of pain and she wrenched herself free. She'd wanted the emotion, not the pain. She got enough pain from him on a daily basis.

He let her go without resistance, suddenly distracting himself with mopping up the mess. He was mad. But rather than fighting her on it, he was shutting down. Pulling back. The last fucking thing she wanted from the man.

"I've fucked more men than you want to know. But I throw them out or I bail on them. I've never once slept in a bed with anyone." She felt his eyes ratchet back to her, but she was looking down, seeing the red outline of his hand on her arm. "I've never trusted anyone that much."

His mouth hung open as he worked to swallow or speak or breathe or something. His eyes kept waiting to find hers, and he grinned as soon as she looked back. "That's a yes on the interrogation room."

She looked away, wishing she hadn't didn't feel so exposed and vulnerable while he was making jokes. Tears started to prick her eyes and she bit her lip in an effort to hold them back.

And then his hand was on her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, revealing no hint of laughter or joking. "I dare you to sleep with me."


	7. Chapter 7

Part Seven

Son of a bitch. He'd gotten it in his head that he was getting lucky and he wasn't going to let it go. Which was too fucking bad for him because she wasn't about to fuck him simply because he dared her to.

Glaring at him, she shifted to the edge of the booth. "I want another drink."

He put his hand on hers. "I'll get it. I can still walk." He paused as soon as he stood, turning back to glance at her. "You want a beer or something stronger?"

She shrugged. "I've got something stronger at home for free." And she was really tempted to go there to get it. "Beer, I guess."

When he returned, she realized she had the perfect excuse to get out of his stupid dare without looking like a chicken. She smiled at him. "I believe it's your turn, El. Truth or Dare?"

He shook his head as he passed her a fresh beer, his hand lingering on hers until she jerked away. "No way. You're not changing the subject."

Clenching her teeth, she stood her ground. "We're playing a damn game, Elliot. I don't have to answer you if I don't want to."

"What if I want you to?"

"That's too damn bad." And it was. Because he wasn't going to nag her into bed with him. She took a sip of her beer, wishing she'd opted for the something stronger.

"I'm not going to drop this." He was staring at her, seemingly transfixed by her refusal to take the bait. "You must know that about me by now."

She rolled her eyes at him. "It's going to be a hell of a long time before I'm drunk enough to actually fuck my partner." Then she held his stare with a hard, angry look. "You must know that about me by now."

His eyes narrowed as his mouth curved into a snarl. "Where you drunk at work when you fucked your other partner or is it just me you need to be drunk to touch?"

Her mouth fell open in shock. Her eyes widened as well. She couldn't even think. She was tempted to pull out her gun and shoot him in the balls for throwing that in her face. "You son of a bitch!" She couldn't believe he'd tricked her into opening up only to use it against her.

And god damn that she hadn't at least had the sense to gather some ammunition when she'd had the opportunity. The only thing she'd gotten from him was a damn stonewall about his secret girlfriend.

Perhaps it was the fury that allowed it to finally come into focus.

Perhaps it was the alcohol that caused her to rethink everything he had told her.

"Were you drunk when you tattooed Dani's birthday on your arm?"

Rather than being irate that she had discovered his big secret, he simply raised one eyebrow at her. "You're really no good at math, are you?"

She snarled back, pissed off that he didn't even have the decency to give her credit for figuring it out. "Screw you."

He sat back, chuckling as he took a sip of his beer. "Is that an offer?"

Rather than answer, she glowered at him. She fucking hated him. And she really fucking hated than she'd let the asshole touch her with that bitch's something or other burned into his flesh. She was so furious. She'd truly never been so scared that she might actually reach for her gun in anger.

He was happy to see her so pissed and she wondered if he'd keep smiling like that when she shot him.

"I think you're jealous."

"That's fucking ridiculous." And so true it hurt.

"Why don't you just admit it? You'll feel better."

She quickly drained her beer and then stood, hoping it wasn't obvious how hard she had to work to stand without grabbing onto something. "Fuck off."

Elliot grabbed for her wrist, his coordination and reflexes considerably better than hers. "Where are you going?"

She was going home to have a couple shots so she could pass out without remembering that she fucking hated her partner's guts because she didn't fucking hate him at all. She hoped to forget the whole evening.

But she couldn't tell him that. "I'm going to the ladies room, or do I need to ask your permission?"

He let go of her and went back to his beer.

Even though he was distracted, she couldn't leave without getting one last word in. "And I assure you, I'm not the least bit jealous of anything Dani Beck has or had or ever will have, are we clear?"

He only glanced at her, his eyes suddenly drawn back to his wrist and the tattoo that ruined everything.

She really wanted to tell him to go fuck himself but she'd already taken a step and she was loathe to give up any ground since her balance was hard won. She was hoping to get home before he realized she wasn't in the bathroom, though she would settle for just getting out of sight. He was being a jerk and she figured as soon as she was gone, he'd find someone else willing to play his little games without asking any questions.

She made it exactly three wobbly steps outside the door and into the rain before she felt a hand grab her arm. For the briefest of moments, she panicked, recognizing that she was hardly in the condition to fight off an attacker.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

She turned around with a frown, partly because he'd caught her, mostly because his hand on her arm really helped her balance. "I'd say that it's abundantly clear, but you're not all that bright, are you?"

With a smirk, he lifted his other hand, revealing the bag and umbrella she'd forgotten. "You're one to talk, running out into the rain without your umbrella."

She reached out to take it from him just as he yanked it out of reach. Her balance was lost completely by the momentum and she fell into Elliot's chest. He was laughing as she forced herself back to her feet.

"I'll carry the bag. You concentrate on not falling on your ass." He kept a hand on her arm as if he was waiting for her to spontaneously collapse again. "I'd rather not have to carry you too."

She glared at him. "I'm drunk, I admit it. But I'm still capable of getting home without a chaperone." She'd certainly managed the task intoxicated before, she could do it again.

"You're going home? I thought you were looking for the bathroom."

She just stared at him, remembering that she'd lied about her destination but yet unable to think of anything to say. "Fuck you." That always worked when she didn't know what to say.

He grinned at her, sliding his arm around her waist as he started to walk with her. "I think we just covered that."

She elbowed him in the gut. "I don't need your help."

The words had barely left her mouth before she stumbled, reflexively grabbing onto his shirt for support.

"The fuck you don't." He sounded smug. He looked smug. He was always smug.

With a scowl, she pushed against him. "I don't want your help." She focused quite carefully on her feet and took one slightly unsteady step away from her partner. "I can survive on my own whether you like it or not."

He grabbed her arm once again, pulling her into his side until he could wrap his arm back around her. "There's no chance in hell I'm letting you walk home alone while you're drunk."

Twisting around and squirming had no effect on his grip, which she suspected only convinced him she needed him. Instead of giving in and complying, she planted her feet. "I said I don't want your help. Leave me alone."

He turned to look at her, his head angling to the side. "What are you so pissed off about anyway? We were having a good time. We got drunk. Now it's time to go home and I'm going to make sure you get there safely."

She scoffed at him. "What am I so pissed off about?" She was so angry she was shaking and he didn't know why. Well, if that didn't take the cake.

Actually, no it didn't. It pretty well summed up their entire relationship.

And she'd be damned if he wasn't just standing there with his arm around her, his face the total picture of innocence. His eyes were dark and locked on hers. Fuck, she didn't know what she was doing.

"What am I so pissed off about?" She wasn't scoffing anymore. She wasn't even sure she was angry.

He grinned at her. "Exactly. Neither one of us knows why you're mad, so let's just forget it, ok?"

So she didn't remember why she was angry. But that didn't mean she didn't have good reason to be angry. She pushed at him again. "I can get home without you."

His arm tightened around her. "There's no chance in hell I'm letting you walk home alone looking like that."

Glancing down at the slacks and sweater she'd worn to work, she found nothing wrong with her outfit. The way he'd said it, she half expected to have found herself in a micro-mini or something. "Looking like what? What the hell is wrong with the way I'm dressed?"

He swallowed as his eyes raked over her as though she really was wearing something inappropriate. "Like that."

"Like what?" She stepped away from him, her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips.

"Hot." He nodded. "That's what. You look hot. And you're drunk and I'm not letting you walk home alone while you're drunk and hot."

Some part of her wanted to laugh at his nearly incoherent drunk babble. Some part of her wanted to jump for joy that he thought she was hot. But she was drunk, and therefore the part of her that won was the part that hated him for knowing she loved his angry chivalry. Which wasn't really his fault since she'd confessed to loving his bad temper.

She shoved at him, unconcerned when she wound up more off-balance than he did from it. "Go away, you son of a bitch! I don't need your help."

His hands moved to her upper arms, holding her steady while he reinforced his claim that he was in better shape than her. "Yes, you do."

She glanced down, seeing his hands on her, his bare forearms being pelted with the rain, the water running across his skin. Then she remembered the tattoo, the one about Dani, the one that immediately ignited the fury in her belly. Her arms moved up suddenly, catching him off guard, throwing his hands clear of her.

"Fuck you, you son of a bitch! Don't you touch me until you get that damn tattoo removed!" She staggered a few steps, telling herself it was the wet concrete that was giving her such a problem with her balance. She hated that she'd said something so stupid, so revealing, so ridiculous. She couldn't blame that on the rain.

She didn't make it another step. His hands were back, grabbing her hips from behind, pulling her completely off her feet as he spun her around. He was pushing her and she was helpless to stop herself as she started to fall backwards. Her eyes went wide as she moved, shocked that he'd actually resorted to physical violence with her.

She hit the wall hard, spared from hitting her head by the way his hand moved up behind her hair. Her heart was racing, from the adrenaline, the fear, the way his eyes were smoldering.

"I thought you weren't jealous of Dani." One of his hands was on the wall next to her head. The other was pressing against her hip bone, making sure she didn't go anywhere.

She was breathing too fast, giving away too much, but unable to stop. Her eyes locked on his. "I'm not jealous of Dani." Except she was. And they both knew it.

He smirked at her. "You shouldn't be. There's nothing to be jealous of."

Searching his eyes for the truth, she understood she had no idea if he was being honest. She was too upset to tell. She feared that he was lying to her, that he somehow knew she wouldn't know, that he could read her well enough to know that. She hated him for it.

She pushed at him again, knowing it was pointless and yet determined to show her independence from him anyway. "I said don't touch me."

He looked at her, his eyes so dark they looked black. "I heard you." The hand on her hip moved up, sliding under her sweater, caressing her side. "I don't think you meant it."

She pushed harder at him, even as her eyes closed in appreciation of the way his hand was working up across her skin. "Stop."

He leaned closer, her hands putting up nothing in the way of a fight. "I don't think you mean that either, Liv."

She felt his breath on her face and her eyes flew open, realizing that the entire night was completely out of her control. "El, what-"

But his mouth was on hers, cutting off any protest she might have managed to make.


	8. Chapter 8

Part Eight

She'd thought his eyes were smoldering. But his mouth was a rating inferno. He was on fire, burning her mouth with his lips, his tongue. The flames were riding on his breath, licking her skin as he branded her.

Her knees went weak. Her hands fisted around his shirt, trusting that he would hold her up. Or at least hit the ground with her. She moaned when he moved closer, his hips grinding against hers. The moment the pressure let up, she chased him, pushing her hips forward into his.

She felt him getting hard. For once, she had hard, the thought made her want to giggle, evidence that he really was attracted to her. God knew he treated her like shit often enough to confuse her, but finally, she knew. And she had every intention of using it to her advantage.

While he continued to kiss her quite thoroughly, she moved her hands, lowering them until her fingers could hook around his belt loops. He didn't appear to have noticed that she'd moved. His hands were still under her sweater, moving slowly, teasingly toward her breasts. His mouth was still open over hers, stealing her breath and words and thoughts.

She yanked hard, bending her knee to hook around his leg, bringing their lower bodies as close together as was possible while they were still clothed.

And finally, he noticed her.

His mouth broke away from hers as he grabbed her hips, thrusting against her. "Jesus, Liv." His forehead dropped to her shoulder and he took several breaths which she suspected were meant to be calming. "Fuck."

She giggled. "Uh, yeah, that's the idea." Her hands moved back to his chest, touching him, feeling him, trying to get him involved once again. She leaned forward, her lips finding his jaw and neck, her tongue running over anywhere she could reach.

He groaned at her actions, lifting his head to capture her mouth once again. But only for a second. He pushed himself away from her, his hands moving to rest on her shoulders. "Wait a minute."

"Why?" She was too drunk to really care what he was saying or why. He'd done too thorough a job in turning her on all night to really expect otherwise. Impatiently, she pulled at him again, her fingers twisting in his belt loops again. "Come back here."

He looked around. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" Public, private, she didn't care, not as long as he carried through on his years of innuendos.

"Because we're on a public street outside a bar a couple blocks from your apartment in the pouring rain." He stared at her like she was completely insane. "That's why."

She rolled her eyes. "I bet if I asked you where the craziest place you'd ever had sex was, you wouldn't have anything good to tell me." She smirked at his shocked face. "So let's give you a good story."

Carefully untangling her fingers from his pants, he pushed her hands away. "No. I get enough of the weird ass sex practices at work, thanks."

She couldn't help it as she laughed at his blatant embarrassment. Her hands found his shirt, digging in and pulling him towards her. "Having fun isn't a weird ass sex practice, El. It's normal. And it's fun." She moved to kiss him again.

But he turned his head away sharply. "Having fun is fun. Yeah, that's brilliant."

She hated being stupidly drunk, so she glared at him. It was all his fault anyway. "It's true."

He shook his head. "We're not having sex right now."

She pouted. "Oh, come on." Realizing he was pulling away again, she wrapped her arm around his neck and moved with him while her other hand moved to the front of his pants. "I know you want to."

He growled as he bit his lip, taking a moment too long to move her hand to convince her that she was mistaken. "Your place."

Once again, she found herself wanting to stomp her feet. "No! Here. Now."

"No." Shaking his head, he smiled. "Besides, there's something I want to show you."

Olivia smiled widely. "Does it involve handcuffs?"

"Let's go." He grabbed her wrist, jerking her away from the wall.

"Can I take that as a yes?" Walking wasn't nearly as complicated as she remembered, perhaps due to the adrenaline rush from having Elliot's hands on her skin. She shivered remembering how his mouth had felt against hers.

He let go of her wrist, moving his arm around her shoulders. "You're freezing, aren't you?"

"Nope." Regardless of the rain that saturated her clothes, cold was the last thing she was feeling.

As they crossed the street onto her block, Elliot smiled at her. "At least I can say I didn't back down from any dares tonight."

"Huh?" She looked at him, wondering if he'd be nice enough to dig through her bag for her keys since she wasn't feeling particularly coordinated.

He grinned at her. "You dared me to kiss one of the women in the bar." He nodded, a hint of pride showing in his smile. "And I did."

"What?" Just like that, the fury had chased off the warm fuzzies and she was back to wanting to shoot him in the balls. She wanted to slap him. But some part of her refused to give him the satisfaction. "Fuck you."

Either he was one fuck of an actor or the dumbest man that ever lived, she realized, because he looked completely baffled. He stared at her as she tripped up the steps. "What's wrong?" He waited a moment before he decided to follow, catching up before she actually managed to get far. "Why are you mad?"

Kissing her had been a dare. A joke. And fuck if she hadn't fallen for his shit and believed him. No wonder he had insisted on moving - because he'd never had any intention on following through with it.

She wanted to kick herself for being so eager, so desperate. The bastard would probably have a good laugh at her expense once she was safely escorted inside.

Clutching the railing for all she was worth, she turned around to look at the shithead who was still following her. "You walked me home. You've done your duty. So go bug someone else now."

He looked positively crestfallen. "I can't come up?"

"I don't need you to tuck me in." She turned back and willed herself to get through the front door without looking stupid. But as she stared at the door and remembered he had the bag with her keys, she knew it was too late. It wasn't even about saving face anymore. She just needed to get away from him as soon as possible.

He held the bag out to her as he stepped beside her. "Liv?"

She refused to look at him as she rummaged in the bag. "What?" If he said something about how they should talk about what had just happened, she determined she would be well within her rights to castrate him.

"I'm really not in any shape to drive right now." He seemed mortified at the admission.

But so was Olivia. Sure he wasn't as drunk as she was, but she'd seen him pounding down the drinks all night and had pretty much told him to drive home. Which was exactly why it wasn't a good idea to get drunk with the man. There were simply far too many ways in which to embarrass herself.

"Do you want to call a cab from upstairs?" Although, in all honesty, letting the man in her apartment was every bit as dangerous as letting him drive.

He grinned as he indicated his phone. "I can call a cab from here."

Finally she managed to fit the key in the lock. "Then why don't you?"

And then his hand was on hers, stilling her entire body except for her heart which started to pound. "Please let me come up."

Perhaps it was because she felt bad leaving her partner to stand in the rain. Perhaps it was because he said please.

Likely, it was simply because she liked playing with fire.

And she really liked the way he'd burned her.

She leaned her head toward the lobby. "Fine." She wanted to pat herself on the back. She'd almost kind of possibly maybe sounded a tad less than maniacally thrilled with her decision.

Leaving him to look even more pleased than she was. He held her gaze as he slipped past her, a smug grin on his face. "You won't regret it."

Squeezing her eyes closed, she nearly mentioned that she kind of already did. Instead she sighed and smacked the button for the elevator. She was thankful for the silence as they rode up to her floor. She didn't have the energy to talk or to fight. She was hoping he would take the hint and leave or call the damn cab or pass out on the couch before he insisted on getting into it again.

Such was always the problem with drinking for her. At first it was all fun and games and flirting. And then she'd have one too many and it would suddenly turn into a sullen, miserable, depressed Olivia wanted to bawl herself to sleep.

Unfortunately, despite the momentary reprieve he'd allowed her, he was once again in the mood to taunt her as soon as they entered her apartment. She'd only gotten as far as throwing her bag and umbrella on the floor. She was in the process of toeing off one of her shoes when he grabbed her, his massively strong arms wrapping around her from behind, spinning her and pressing her against the door.

"Where were we?" His mouth was hot on her neck, a far cry from the cold, wet arms that were pressing against her belly.

"We certainly weren't here." She clawed at his hands even as her head was lolling back to allow him access. "I think you were calling a cab."

He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest where it pressed into her back. "You don't want me to leave anymore than I do. So let's stop pretending, ok?"

She hated cocky. If there was one thing in the world she hated, it was self-assured to the point of conceited. She grabbed his arms and her nails dug in hard, pleased when he hissed and released her. Glaring, she turned to face him.

"Come on, Liv, seriously, you wanted to have sex two blocks back."

She shrugged. "That was two blocks ago."

His hands moved, not as harshly, but still quite possessively around her waist. He grinned as he leaned forward, his lips touching hers again. As soon as she returned the kiss, which was almost immediately, he pulled back. "See? Not so bad, huh?"

She raised her hands to push at him, but found her fingers slowly tracing over his chest. He had some sort of mind-control over her. He had to. Because the last thing she wanted him to do was leave. His shirt was soaked through, leaving nothing to the imagination and still, it was in her way. "You should put your shirt in the dryer."

He laughed as he pulled it over his head, throwing it to the floor. He held her eyes as he smiled again, less smug, more mesmerized. "You should put your sweater in the dryer too."

She couldn't help but grin at him, feeling her brain melting from the heat radiating off his body. Her hands moved to touch him, her fingers lightly tracing patterns on his skin. "I'm drunk, El. I might need your help."

His smile widened as he reached for the hem of her sweater. She expected that he'd rip it off her as unceremoniously as he'd removed his own, but he paused, his fingers just brushing her waist. "You sure?"

She nodded, raising her arms over her head like a little girl.

She shivered in the following moment, her wet skin puckering in goosebumps when the cold air rushed in. She wanted, needed, to be wrapped back in Elliot's arms where he might keep her warm with his heat. But he wasn't moving in.

No, he was just standing there, staring at her, like she was the Holy fucking Grail.

Feeling self-conscious, she folded her arms over her chest. "What?"

He reached up, tugging at her wrists, guiding her hands back to her sides. "You're fucking beautiful, Liv."

"I'm fucking cold, El." She lifted her arms again, sliding her hands over his shoulders, curling her fingers around his neck.

He grinned as he pushed her back into the door, quickly sandwiching her there with his body. "I think I can fix that."

Without even thinking, her legs left the ground, folding around him, knowing he'd support her. "I figured you could."

His mouth found her throat, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses from her chin to her collarbone and then back. His hands reached up to unhook her bra. But before he worked the catch, he pulled back to meet her eyes. "Let me make love to you, Liv."

She hated that. Making love. It wasn't love. It was sex. But men always thought women would be more agreeable to the former. But it really didn't matter, not right then. Not if he would just shut up and fuck her, flowery language aside. She nodded, happily agreeing to anything he was asking, just so long as he reattached his lips to her flesh.

He wasn't done, though, and one of his hands did the work of supporting her while the other snaked around to cup her cheek. "And let me stay."

Her eyes widened. She hadn't even though about it. She couldn't imagine asking him to leave. But she wasn't sure she could change thirty-some years of ingrained behavior, not even for the man she loved more than life itself.

Rather than saying something she knew would ruin the mood, she smiled seductively as her nails raked across his shoulders. "Let's talk about it later."

"Please, Liv?"

Again with the please. It made her insides turn to jelly.

He grinned at her once again. "I dare you."


	9. Chapter 9

Part Nine

She kind of wanted to smack him for his painfully stupid comment. She only stopped herself because it was so very clear that he really didn't mean anything by it. He was a typical foot-in-mouth male. And somehow, with every unbelievably dumb thing he said, she fell a little harder for him.

She smiled at him, letting her hands massage against the back of his shoulders as her pelvis rubbed against the part of him that she firmly believed was calling that shots at that moment. "Yes, El, I'll have sex with you."

He pulled back a bit, quite a difficult task since her entire body was wrapped around his, but he managed it. "No, Liv. Not just sex. I want to make love to you."

Her feet lowered to the floor as she frowned at him. No way he'd gotten her so wound up and was going to argue semantics with her. And fuck him if he was going to back out over semantics too. She wondered if the idea that she wanted to fuck her mate and then kill him made her a black widow. Deciding she had to married first, she tried to distract him with a double play - kissing him while rubbing her hand across the bulge in his pants.

It worked like a charm, completely diverting his energy into kissing her back while he pressed her back against the door. For all of about two seconds.

He pulled back again, smartly leaving his hands on her shoulders to keep her from distracting him anymore. His eyes searched hers for a long frustrating time before he opened his mouth and said something equally frustrating.

"This is really important to me, Liv."

Of all the times for him to decide to try out sweet and sensitive.

"Damn it, Elliot. You can say you changed your mind." And he could. But it would still be his own fault if she went temporarily psychotic and murdered him. Certainly every woman on the Earth would agree.

"I haven't changed my mind. You're just not listening."

Elliot had to be the only man to ever prefer fighting to sex.

Although she could kind of see his point if they could work out some sort of cooperative deal involving both sex and fighting. In a matter of seconds, she'd managed to distract herself.

She reached out again, her hands finding the waistband of his pants, ignoring him entirely. "Wasn't there something you wanted to show me?" Tugging his hips toward hers, she grinned. "Show me. I want to see it." She fully expected that "it" was in his pants, and was the same thing that was already making a valiant effort to escape the confines.

But he ignored her, moving his hands, placing them on her jaw, pulling her attention back to his face. "I want to show you the difference between sex and making love."

The fuck he did.

The fuck he was going to.

Because his insistence was getting on her last nerve.

And some random night they'd decided to go out and get drunk and have some fun was hardly the night to delve down into her intimacy issues.

"El, we're having a good time. Let's leave it at that, ok?"

His hands moved again, removing her fingers from his pants, tangling them together as he raised their hands and rested them against his chest. "Why won't you trust me?" He ducked down, lightly kissing the back of her hands. "I'm trying to tell you I love you, Olivia. You're not listening."

God, he was trying to kill her. And why he was, she really didn't know. He couldn't let it go. He had to convince her it was something they wouldn't regret in the morning, even though they both knew he was lying.

She met his stare, trying to get through to him before he stripped away all of her defenses and left her bleeding and broken in the morning when he would inevitably declare they'd made a huge mistake. She could already see the scene unfolding in her mind as he dressed hurriedly while she pretended not to see the red scratches her nails had left on his back and tried to hold back her sobs until after he'd left the room. It could all be avoided. As long as he didn't insist on swearing they'd spend eternity holding hands as they ran through a field of daisies.

"Don't, El. Please."

"Don't what?"

Sobriety was starting to tug at her brain, making every moment she spent near him a little more painful. Because they both knew how this was going to end. It was the reason they'd always backed down the other times. Fuck the tequila and the need and the attraction for making her ignore her better judgment.

She shook her head, hoping it might keep the tears at bay. "Don't make this something it's not."

He played stupid, staring at her with and expression carefully schooled to appear a little too innocent. "What are you talking about?"

She was done. She had to protect herself. Gathering the shreds of her dignity and her shirt from the floor, she stepped away from him. "I'm going to take a shower. You can sleep on the couch if you want."

"What the hell?"

She heard him, but she ignored him. It was fairly obvious, after all, even to two rather intoxicated individuals that there was no sex being had. And due to that unfortunate turn of events, Olivia desperately needed a shower, to remove the grime of the workday and the bar as well as to calm her body down from the fire Elliot had been stoking.

She stumbled slightly, catching herself on the knob of the hall closet. She remembered as she looked at the door that she needed to give him a blanket and pillow or risk having him barge into her bedroom looking for them later. Gathering the two items from the shelf, she carefully picked her way back to the living room.

Once again she ignored Elliot, especially the way he was just standing there as though he really didn't understand what had happened. Tough. He'd have to figure it out the same way she'd figured out that the whole damn night had been a fucking game to him. She threw the blanket and pillow on the couch and went back to the bathroom.

As she turned the hot faucet all the way up, she refused to think about it. It hurt too much to recall the private, personal things she'd admitted while she thought they were trying to get closer. And it hurt to think about the fact that Elliot just wanted the chance to get in her pants. And it hurt even more that he was trying to pretend it was more, because she wanted more, because he knew she wanted more.

But she still had her dignity, at least whatever was left of it, and she hadn't fallen for his bullshit line about loving her when she knew full well he'd bail on her before the morning, claiming that it had all been a huge mistake and that he'd realized it as soon as he had sobered up a bit.

Yeah, if there was one thing she knew how to do, it was beating them to the punch. She could protect herself. She'd been doing that her whole life.

And as the room filled with steam, she told herself the mist was the reason for the moisture on her cheeks.


	10. Chapter 10

Part Ten

If there was one thing Olivia Benson knew, it was that pain hurt less when she was in motion. Through the years, she'd learned to keep moving and running and ducking and turning. Whatever she could do to stay a step ahead of what would surely crush her if it caught up to her. And from experience she knew the pain wrought by a truly hideous scene with Elliot was a particularly evil, cruel sort of pain. The type that came at her with a vengeance.

Which made it all the more important that she keep moving until she was sure she'd outrun it.

She dropped her shirt on the floor, reaching behind her back to unhook her bra. Concentrating on refusing to let herself think of how Elliot had so recently been trying the same thing, her slippery fingers revealed that her body was much less able to forget Elliot. She gave up on the beige lace for the moment, moving to her pants instead. The button and zipper were ridiculously complicated as well, with her mind drawing up the memory of Elliot's earlier assessment that her cotton-blend slacks were hot.

She stopped trying long enough to wipe away the tears, then redoubled her efforts, managing to yank the button open. She slid her fingers along the waistband of her panties, intending to strip her bottom half in one swift tug. But as she glanced down, her eyes caught the dark, inky swirls of her tattoo peeking out from the cloth.

Damn it. There was nothing she could do to escape him. Not with that there.

At least she hadn't fucked him.

At least she hadn't let him see that damn tattoo.

The ne she'd gotten in Oregon when she felt so lonely and disconnected from him that she'd feared they'd never get their friendship back. A couple of nightmares, a little too much to drink, which she suddenly and belatedly realized often went hand-in-hand with the more spectacularly stupid moments of her life, and she'd gone into a tattoo parlor owned by a male tattoo artist named Bunny and done something as dumb as, if not dumber than, nearly fucking Elliot.

Ok, definitely dumber.

She squeezed her eyes closed and breathed a sigh of relief.

Thank that fucking god of his that he blew his chance of seeing her naked.

She couldn't imagine what the fuck she would have done had he found out she had his fucking name tattooed on her hip. She took a deep breath, certain that if she told herself everything was fine, then maybe it would be.

There was a rush of cold air chasing away the heat of the steam, causing her to shiver. She turned, expecting to find the door that didn't quite fit its frame had fallen open as it tended to do.

But rather than the misfit door, her eyes fell on Elliot. Just standing there. Fierce anger rose up and made her blood boil.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" She felt exposed and crossed her arms over her chest in some attempt at modesty.

His eyes were narrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. Fury was radiating from him. She needn't have felt embarrassed for her bra and unbuttoned pants, though, because he wasn't looking. His eyes were locked on hers, his rage heating the small room as much as the hot shower had. He said nothing, just looked at her.

"I said what the fuck do you think you're doing?" She prayed he didn't confuse her heavy breathing anger for something else entirely.

"Is that what you think of me?" His eyes didn't sway from hers as he took a step into the bathroom. He barely waited a beat as he barked at her. "Answer me!"

She didn't know how to. Because she if she were sober, she would have known better. Because she knew, even drunk, that Elliot wasn't an asshole. Because, even knowing that, she was still afraid.

Not of him, but of how completely vulnerable she was around him. No one had ever been able to strip her defenses and leave her raw and defenseless and terrified.

She looked away, scared of letting him see how scared she was. Her shoulders moved in the slightest indication of a shrug. It was as close to an answer as he was going to get. It was as close to an answer as she could give.

"Do you think I would do that?" He took another step toward her, crowding her against the wall. His head leaned to the side, trying to catch her eyes as she avoided his. Finally he brought his hands to her biceps, the heat of his hands causing her to shiver.

"Look at me, Olivia."

Her eyes moved to his instinctively.

"Do you really think I would take it this far if I thought it was a game?"

Her face crumbled under his scrutiny. He was so angry, so hurt, so offended by her behavior. And she couldn't blame him. She would have felt the same way in his place.

She wanted to correct him, to explain that it wasn't him, to point out that the person she thought so little of was herself. Of course he wasn't so cruel. But she wasn't sure she deserved better than a pointless game. Her entire life had been built around making sure she never actually got what she wanted or was ever happy.

Dating jerk after jerk and devoting her career to the unending trauma of rape and child abuse was hardly the plan for someone who knew what to do with happiness.

"Answer me, Olivia!" Despite the harshness of his words and tone, his face wasn't angry. His hands were soft too, gentle as they slipped from her upper arms to her face, cradling her cheeks as he pulled her to look at him.

Her tears continued to fall, their frequency only increased by his kindness. The steam from the shower seeped around them, the moisture adding to the heat her body always generated when she was too close to him.

His eyes didn't waver from hers and she knew they wouldn't until he got what he wanted. But what did he want? Her body? Her respect? Her honest declaration that she needed him more than she needed to breathe? And then she remembered.

Her answer. That was what he wanted. He wanted to know if she really believed he was the type to chance the destruction of his career and the closest friendship he'd ever had for a quick fuck.

He wasn't. She knew that because in all the years she'd known him, he'd never dared touch her before. Like her, he'd tried to protect their relationship by avoiding anything more than they already had. Until one night, when an innocent game and too much beer had gotten the better of both of them.

The pause was too long, she realized, while she tried to get her alcohol-addled mind working again.

Way too long.

In the interest of protecting herself, she'd forgotten to protect her partner as well. And it quickly became clear, as his hands fell to his sides and he started to back away, that she not only had failed to protect him but had dealt him a terrible blow.

He didn't try to conceal the hurt, probably because he was still drunk too, possibly because he was too crushed to really give a shit. He was shaking his head as he took tiny, uncertain steps backwards.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. She'd never thought that thinking he might hurt her would hurt him. To hell with protecting herself, she had to fix what she'd done to him.

She reached for him, sniffling as she tried to stop crying long enough to speak. Her hands grabbed his elbow, fastening around it.

"No, I know you wouldn't do that." She pulled, feeling his body cautiously obeying her command. As he moved back in front of her, she found there was no way to explain herself. That she'd been afraid of him breaking her heart sounded stupid, even in her own head. "I'm sorry." She hoped it was enough.

His eyes burned into hers for a long time as he weighed his options. But finally, he stepped forward, crowding into her personal space again, his hands going first to her arms and then reaching around her.

As she fell forward into his embrace, she felt the rumble in his chest, the first indication he was speaking, before the sounds reached her ears.

"Trust me, Liv."

She was terrified to go out on the limb, even for Elliot, but she didn't want to hurt him again. And she did trust him, when it came right down to it. She never would have fallen for him if he hadn't first earned her trust.

She turned her face into his neck and nodded, as she breathed in the scent of him, intensified by the steam and his racing heart. "I do trust you."

Slowly, he pulled back, bringing his hands to her face, and looked her in the eye. "Let me show you." He moved forward, his lips pressing against her forehead. His mouth moved slowly, drifting across her temple, down her cheek. "Let me touch you." His lips brushed ever so lightly across hers. "Let me love you."

She could barely take a breath, so scared that even something so small might dispel the hot fog around them, so afraid that Elliot might disappear into the magical mist. She looked at him, at the warmth in his eyes, at the desire in his parted lips, then she squeezed her eyes closed. She had never trusted anyone to love her before. She had never trusted anyone to make love to her before. She had never trusted anyone like she trusted him.


	11. Chapter 11

_AN: Here's the last part. Enjoy! For anyone interested in Liv's tattoo, it's on photobucket under jezyk_album._

Part Eleven

Having realized that truth, having realized the pain her slow determination of that truth caused her partner, she felt compelled to say it, to reassure him that he held a very special place in her heart. And so her hands released him, traveling up to his cheeks, forcing his eyes to hers. She could see the concern, the fear, the hurt, as he once again questioned his own trustworthiness, at least in the eyes of his partner.

She smiled, her fingers slipping to cup the back of his head. "I trust you more than I've ever trusted anyone."

His eyes didn't blink while he processed the information. Slowly a grin formed as he finally grasped what she was saying. "I love you too."

And he was right. That was what she'd meant, even without intending it. Trust and love were the same thing to her. Elliot had represented both to her for as long as she'd known him. She wasn't sure she could tell them apart anymore.

It was barely a second after he spoke when his mouth found hers again. The kiss was more intense, more passionate, and somehow less frantic. Perhaps because neither of them feared any longer that sobriety would change the other's mind. The steam condensed on Elliot's hair and skin, Olivia's fingers slipping, her nails clawing for purchase as though he might get away if she didn't hold on. She didn't think he was going to try, but she wasn't going to chance it. She wasn't letting her man go anywhere.

For his part, he didn't seem like he was all that interested in going far. Even when his tongue finally moved from her mouth, it stayed connected to her. He tasted and licked her jaw, her ear, her throat. Her knees folded when he sucked the spot under her earlobe, the one she'd told him about, the one he'd teased at the bar. But there was no more teasing. His mouth moved with purpose as he sucked the sensitive skin between his lips. There would be a mark there, a deep welt in a place impossible to hide. It would undoubtedly still be there on Monday, where Elliot would be able to see it. She could already see the possessive glint that would be in his eyes, the sexy, smug smirk that would curl his lips. A smirk she'd desperately want to kiss off his face.

Ferociously, she grabbed his jaw, yanking his mouth back to hers. She needed to taste him. She couldn't wait for him to finish tasting her. His exploration would simply have to wait. She took control of the kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth, not giving him time to breathe. So what if he had Dani's something or other tattooed on his arm. She was branding him with her mouth, with the burning heat he'd stoked in her body. It was only fair that she expel some of those flames back at him. She'd already melted in his arms; she wanted him to melt a little too.

He didn't seem to mind that either. While she was busy kissing away any worries he might have still had regarding her trust in him, his hands were everywhere. Her neck, her arms, her back, her ass. He was so thorough in his investigation that she wondered if he might be trying to find her tattoo by feel.

She was jealous of his brilliant idea. She kind of wanted to search his skin for any others he might be hiding. She kind of wanted to search his skin just because she could.

Kind of?

Fuck that. Definitely was more like it.

As she ran her hands across his chest, Elliot's fingers were slipping under the waistband of her pants. She growled at him, partly because his fingers weren't where she wanted them and partly because his fingers were already distracting her from touching every inch of his chest.

He pulled back with a shocked look, his hands abandoning her skin and lifting in surrender. "What's wrong?" He kept his hands up like she was about to arrest him. And though she wasn't at all averse to playing cops and robbers with him later, she had no intention of breaking out the cuffs during their first round. She wanted his hands on her and she needed to touch him. Toys would have to wait.

She chuckled at his slight panic, at his desperation to not upset her again. "Nothing." Taking his hands, she placed them back on her skin. "You were just distracting me a bit."

"Sorry." His smirk, however, revealed he was anything but. He moved his hands from her again, quickly removing his pants and boxers. His smirk only grew wider when he caught her admiring stare. "Better?"

She waited with a raised eyebrow until his hands went back to her waist, pulling her hard against his bare body. Then she laughed, quite enjoying how obviously he wanted her. "Yeah, much better."

His hands ran up her back, finding the clasp of her bra. "I'd agree, but you're still wearing too much clothing." A second later, the last thing separating their chests dropped forgotten to the floor. He looked down, a smile spreading across his face. "Now that's better."

Elliot's attention moved right in, each of his large hands covering a breast while his mouth slowly trailed from her clavicle to her chest to the top of her left breast. He held it in place while he thoroughly kissed around it. It was only after she started to whimper that his fingers finally found her nipples, the thumb and forefinger of each hand simultaneously pinching, transforming her whimper into a moan. Her head fell back, smacking into the wall, abandoning all senses except touch, enjoying the sensations her was conjuring up. He didn't care, probably liked that not only was she turning her body over to him so easily, but that her reaction to his touch was so powerful that she really had no choice.

It took forever before his hot, wet tongue found one nipple, plucking at the erect peak until Olivia was pretty sure he could suck her consciousness right out of her. She wanted to participate, wanted to command his body the way he had taken over hers. But she wasn't about to dissuade him from what he was doing, not even if she wound up collapsed on the ground.

When he'd lavished ample attention on one breast, he moved to the other, sucking that nipple into his mouth before she could take in a breath. All too soon, she feared she really would pass out. His ministrations, and the hot air that could no longer be blamed on the shower choked her, leaving her to teeter perilously close to losing her balance.

Elliot's hands were on her waist, steadying her as he continued to drive her wild. The foggy reflection in the mirror across from them was reflecting back a hazy image of Elliot's back, stooped over as he tasted her breasts. The idea of it turned her on, but the condensation that partially obscured the view made it seem like a dream. She'd had enough dreams. She wanted to enjoy reality and not be nagged by the fear that she'd passed out and was dreaming the incredible sensations.

She reached for his head, distracted by the soft feel of his short hair. She remembered as she stroked his head and neck that she meant to be doing something else, but she loved just touching him. Her hand moved to his jaw, guiding his face back to hers. She grinned at him, knowing his eyes hadn't traveled south of her chest to see the tattoo he'd been so intrigued by previously.

Suddenly deciding she needed to participate a little more, she came up with something that would get his attention. "You want to see my tattoo?"

His eyes went wide. "Can I?"

She laughed, amused by his honest surprise that she would let him see it under the circumstances. He'd just been sucking on her breast and yet still thought she wouldn't show him her secret. "Yes, El, you can see my tattoo."

He looked at her, completely distracted from her chest. "Where is it?"

She grinned back, loving that she finally had his rapt attention. "I'm not going to tell you."

He was baffled, maybe even hurt, as his shoulders drooped. "I thought you said-"

This time, it was Olivia who chuckled. Draping her arms around his shoulders and leaning into him, she offered him a full, unguarded smile. "Oh, you can see it all right." She quirked an eyebrow at him. "But you're going to have to find it for yourself."

For one long moment, Elliot smiled back at her, every bit as openly.

And then his joy faded, shoved aside almost instantly by pure, unadulterated desire. His eyes were smoldering, an uncontrollable fire threatening to spread right through both of them.

"I guess I'll need to search you thoroughly then."

"Darn."

He stepped back, his eyes darting toward the shower for only the briefest of moments. With a smile, he shook his head at her. "Nah, I'm going to need a bed to investigate this tattoo issue properly."

Glad for his assessment, if only because they were still too intoxicated to remain standing long enough, Olivia reached over to turn off the water. "Good thing you didn't have you heart set on the shower. The hot water probably ran out a while ago." Such was the peril of running the water while she'd been thoroughly distracted by her partner. Not that she minded one bit. As she turned back to him, she saw the appreciative stare that had been aimed at her backside. A snarky comment was on the tip of her tongue, years of pretending either not to see the looks he shot her or letting on she was offended by them giving her pause. But then she remembered where they were and what they'd been doing and, more importantly, what they were about to do.

She grinned cheekily. "See something you like?"

He growled in answer, reaching for her, putting his hands on her lower back, pulling her hard into him. His mouth closing over hers was all the answer she needed.

She wanted to say that she certainly liked what she'd seen too, her partner, all bulging muscles and bright blue eyes, completely naked and looking like he wanted to eat her alive while his erect dick was pressed against her. But talking was overrated, at least when the alternative involved stroking his tongue with her own. He started backing up, undoubtedly trying to get her to the bed as fast as he could, but even with his tight grip on her, his motion caused the slightest decrease in pressure between their bodies. She couldn't have that. She waited too long to not get the most possible enjoyment out of every second.

She trusted him inherently, his strength too; she knew he wouldn't drop her. Her arms moved first, squeezing tightly around his shoulders, securing her chest to his while her legs followed suit, wrapping around his hips. The sudden change and her increased height gave her all the leverage she needed to take control of the kiss. She slipped her tongue into his mouth, reveling in the heat, the fire, burning there. She tasted every inch of him, making her claim on him, kissing him so thoroughly he could never kiss another woman without thinking of her. Her arms tightened at the thought, swearing silently to herself, and him too, that he'd simply never kiss another woman period. He was hers, damn it. She'd earned him. She wasn't going to share. Tensing the muscles in her legs, she tried to communicate that to him.

He slammed backwards into the wall, her arms and legs absorbing most of the blow.

"Ow!" She could tell from him startled look that he hadn't even realized what was going on.

"You ok?"

Under any other circumstances she might have teased him. But there wasn't time for teasing. Not right then. Not when she very well might die if they didn't seal the deal.

She nodded as she leaned forward, her mouth searching for anything of his she could grab. She only caught his neck for a moment before he growled and pulled back.

"Stop distracting me or we'll never get to the bed." He seemed perfectly serious and a bit pissed off, but she couldn't reconcile such a normal glare from him with what he was saying.

And she honestly didn't care if they made it to the bed. With a wicked grin, she wiggled her hips. "Is that supposed to be a threat?"

His only response was another, slightly more feral, growl.

She loved teasing him and saw no reason to stop. "Cause really, you don't scare me."

His eyes were nearly glowing with intensity as he stared at her, his hips driving hers into the wall. "I'm not trying-" His words were lost then, disappearing into an animalistic grunt as he ground against her. Despite the assurance he'd tried to give her, his words were delivered in such a gruff tone that most people would have had the sense to be scared. But she wasn't most people and, for the time being, she didn't have any sense.

She was too busy being proud of the fact that she somehow knew Elliot had never growled at anyone else. Maybe he'd had sex with his wife, but Kathy had never driven him so wild that he couldn't control himself. And she loved it.

Just because she could and she didn't really think he minded all that much, she shifted her hips. Her movement was answered by another grinding of his.

"Shit, Liv." His head fell forward, his breath hot against her throat. "Can we aim for the bed? Please?"

His pathetic attempt at chivalry was adorable. But she feared telling him that he was adorable would ruin the mood. So she said nothing.

He took her silence as acceptance. "Good." With her finally complicit, he redoubled his efforts to carry her to the bedroom. Not wanting to piss him off lest he decide to leave, though she really didn't think that was likely considering the way his dick was poking eagerly against her pants, she complied with his request not to distract him. She rested her head on his cheek, inhaling the undeniably delicious masculine scent of him and let him carry her to her bed.

It was such a clichéd thing to but rather than be annoyed at the chivalry, she reveled in it. She loved it when Elliot displayed that old-fashioned side of himself, whether it was holding a door for her or defending her honor. She knew he in no way thought less of her abilities because of her sex. He simply respected her. And it was sweet as hell.

As soon as he deposited her on the bed, dropping down on top of her immediately, she resumed her efforts to distract him. Not because she wanted to distract him, but because she couldn't resist kissing him.

She kissed his mouth and his neck and his shoulders and his hand, when he reached up to turn her mouth from his skin.

"I'm on a mission here, woman! Let me concentrate!" Even as he spoke, he started to laugh.

Dropping her head back onto her pillows, she joined in the laughter. "By all means, don't let me dissuade you." As if to reassure him, she tucked her hands behind her head and raised an eyebrow.

She'd thought his eyes were dark before. But they were nearly black when he took her in, lying on her bed, chest fully exposed, her body relaxed and under him and completely at his disposal. She watched as he sat back on his heels, his eyes dropping to take her in, her obvious trust in him. His eyes slowly climbed back to hers.

"I love you, Olivia. You know that, right?"

She smiled and nodded. "You already mentioned that." Maybe she'd had doubts. Maybe she hadn't believed she could ever deserve his love. But that was earlier, before she'd seen the way he truly revered her, the way he was absolutely mesmerized by her. She knew he wasn't the type to lie about it, not like that, not right then.

He leaned forward, his lips lighting against hers briefly, then trailing over her chin, down her throat, trailing down between her breasts. He took his sweet time, lavishing attention all over her chest again, more thoroughly than he had in the bathroom, causing her hands to clench the sheet in anticipation of the attention he would give the rest of her body.

She wasn't disappointed as his lips and tongue slowly traveled even further, touching and tasting her abdomen as his hands worked her free of her pants. He pulled hard, divesting her of both her pants and panties in one tug. His hands found her legs, his palms running up them, his body settling between them as she parted them for him. Her body tensed as his mouth found her tattoo, his tongue testing the skin there, his mind so entirely refocused on her pleasure that he'd forgotten entirely that he'd been meaning to ask her about it.

As his mouth drifted lower, she realized perhaps he hadn't really cared about the tattoo at all. He'd simply wanted permission to look at her, to touch her, to taste her. And she understood. Because at that moment, she wouldn't have fucking cared if Dani's face had been tattooed on his chest.

Not when his breath tickled the hair between her legs.

Her head fell back and she groaned, already at the edge from his gentle touches and kisses. She bent her legs, digging her toes into the blanket like her fingers, trying to keep herself grounded for what she already knew was going to be the best orgasm of her life. Because it was Elliot. And Elliot made everything better.

His fingers were light as he touched her, barely making contact with her, slowly increasing the pressure, listening for her moans to determine what she liked. His fingers continued to play, moving out of the way as his mouth pressed into her core, pausing when she tensed and growled at the initial contact. She didn't want to come right then, she didn't want to embarrass herself at her desperation.

But it was really too late to hide it since his fingers had already discovered the fluid coating her.

"You're so wet, Liv."

She groaned again, both at the way his fingers were dipping inside of her and at the sound of his choked voice, amazed that she was so turned on by him.

His face dropped down, his lips and tongue finding her clit, pushing and sucking and tasting. "God, you taste so good."

She found herself fighting back tears, mortified at her inability to pretend that his words didn't mean anything. She'd wanted him so badly, had imagined this very moment so many times. She couldn't believe it was finally there. That his mouth was closed around her, his fingers pumping inside of her.

She'd never cried during sex. Never. She'd thought about it, when she'd realized a few mistakes over the years, but she'd never actually felt so much that she did.

So wrapped up in the fact that she was crying and needed to hide it before he noticed, at first, she barely noticed the muscles tensing. But as he continued to work his tongue against her clit and increase the pace of his fingers, she was drawn back to it. Her body was centered on his motions, on his breath, on his own moans as they mingled with hers. Her whole body was tightening, her hips pressing into his mouth, meeting his thrusts as she tried to hurry him. She was too desperate to wait, too wound up to really enjoy the ride. Despite the desperation, the climax continued to build, long past the point where her moans had become indistinct and her body's motions became jerky and uncoordinated. There were no more tears.

She was barely able to breathe when she finally felt it cresting, her hands releasing the blanket in order to grip his head and push his face harder against her center.

She'd never screamed like that in all her life.

She wondered if the neighbors might call the cops.

She didn't really care.

Her body relaxed, unable to move as she rode out the waves of pleasure. Never in her life had she felt so unbelievably good. She blamed it on twelve years of relentless foreplay.

As she came back to herself, she realized Elliot was moving again, his mouth carefully picking its way back over her body. This time, as his tongue caressed the swirls of her tattoo, his fingers danced over her hip bone, outlining the dark shape, he paused and pulled back to look at it. He looked up at her and smiled.

"It's nice."

She wanted to scoff at him, but she was too satiated to get upset. "It's nice? That's all you've got?"

His eyes narrowed the slightest bit before he glanced down to look at it again. His fingers traced it, causing her to shiver, as he looked back at her. "It's pretty."

She chuckled that time. "I got it in Oregon." It was a big step for her, unveiling something that, earlier that evening, she would have sworn would stay a secret until the day she died. "I'd never felt so alone in my life." She didn't think she needed to add that the reason she'd felt so alone was because he hadn't been there with her. "I missed you."

"I missed you too." He leaned down and kissed the tattoo again and she could tell from his schooled blank expression that he didn't get it.

She'd taken days to negotiate with the artist, determined that the design be exactly perfect before she allowed him to touch her body with his pen. She'd wanted it to be obvious to her, but not so obvious that any man in Elliot's position see what it was. Although, she'd certainly expected that Elliot would recognize his name.

Her fingers moved down, brushing against his as she outlined the diamond shape. "It's a Celtic knot, a symbol of protection." Which, to her, certainly symbolized Elliot. He was all about protecting her.

"And you needed to be protected while you were out there alone." He didn't need to mention that Porter hadn't been willing to provide much in that arena.

She laughed softly. "You don't see it."

He bit his lip while he retrained his eyes on the swirls and obviously tried to get what she'd indicated he was missing.

"It's El."

He nodded, showing no signs of gratitude that she'd scarred his name onto her body. "And your name is Liv. Makes sense."

She laughed softly, watching him while her fingers moved to the spot she didn't need to look at to find. She'd spent many a night tracing the letters with her fingers. She knew exactly where it was. "It's El." Her index finger moved slowly over the e, carefully disguised in the lines forming the upper case l. "It says El."

She saw the moment he finally got it, when his mouth dropped open and his eyes darted to hers.

"Some detective you are." Then she smiled. "It made me feel closer to you. Like you were there with me."

Before she could even finish the words, he was on top of her once again, his mouth attached to hers, his tender kiss telling her what his words could not. She breathed a sigh of relief into the kiss, happy to know that she hadn't made a colossal mistake in revealing herself to him. He wasn't mad about it. He wasn't disappointed. He loved it. He loved her for it.

When he broke the kiss, his mouth moved to her ear, suckling on the lobe, immediately bringing her body right back to the frenzied state his had never left. She moaned, digging her nails into his back. He growled in response and bucked his hips against hers.

"So no more talking. Got it." She giggled as he growled again, but she opened her legs, pressing her feet into the back of his thighs, giving him an open invitation.

It was all he needed. He buried himself inside her in a flash, his hands grabbing the backs of her legs, forcing them higher, pushing himself as deep as he could get.

Her back arched as he felt him filling her, knowing it was so much more than physical sensations that explained why he fit so perfectly inside her. It felt like he'd been made to fit into her body, like they were two pieces of a puzzle that were designed to only be whole when they were together. She wanted to stay there with him, like that, forever.

But her thoughts were interrupted, coherence lost to her, when he started to move with purpose. His hands snuck under her curved back, grasping the back of her ribcage, trying to hold her still as he thrust hard, over and over. She grabbed his shoulders, trying to find some way to help him, to keep herself from sliding back as he slammed into her. His body was slick with sweat and her hands slipped uselessly across his skin.

She reached up instead, over her head, grabbing the headboard with all her might, pushing back to counter his thrusts. Whether realistic or not, she swore no one had ever penetrated her so deeply; mentally, if not physically.

The evening's activities were starting to catch up to her – the emotional roller coaster she'd been on, all the drinking, all the making out, the incredible orgasm – and she was exhausted. She wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and sleep until her body had a chance to recharge. And even though her body was tingling all over and looking for another release, she thought about stopping him as his hand reached between them, telling him she didn't need it.

It was just another endearing thing about the man. He wanted her to climax again, even though he'd just about blown her apart the first time. She wasn't sure she had the energy. It was taking everything she had to hold herself still.

Even so, as she looked at him, his face screwed up in concentration as he worked to keep his furious rhythm, his body tensed and tight as he pounded into her, his hand forcing itself down lower and lower, she realized she didn't have a choice. Her mind might have been tired, but he wasn't, not yet, and her body was perfectly willing to do whatever he commanded it to.

His fingertips finally worked their way back to the bundle of nerves, fluttering lightly against her at first, then pressing harder and faster. Her hands released the headboard, flopping heavily onto the bed, as her arms tried and failed to reach for him. His body kept moving, sliding in and out, his skin slapping against hers, his fingers circling her clit around and around, pushing and pinching. Her whole body started to hum once again and she felt herself start to moan.

Elliot was grunting in time with his thrusts, even his strength beginning to fail with the work he was doing supported on one elbow. She saw the rivulets of sweat starting at his forehead, making their way down his cheeks and nose, until the moisture dropped onto her chest. His steady rhythm slipped as he worked, his eyes slowly opening to fix on hers.

His intense stare, so close, so intimate at that moment, was the last thing she needed. Her body tensed once more, and she felt herself arching off the bed, her chest smacking into his as she closed her eyes, swept away by the rush.

"Don't hide." His fingers stalled on her clit momentarily. "Look at me, baby. It's just me."

"I know." And then she did look at him, her eyes flying open to meet his, letting the familiar blue ground her while the world exploded around her.

She didn't even know if she screamed that time. She didn't know if she was still breathing.

She just knew that a second later, she felt her partner come too, his eyes never leaving hers.

It seemed like forever had gone by, but it was still too soon when Elliot shifted off her, sliding to lie along her side. He was nervous about something. She could tell by the way he would look at her face and then look away and then look back. She reached out, her hand pressing against his chest as she turned to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes.

"What, El?"

He bit his lip, averting his eyes.

She wanted to roll hers at his sudden shyness, but she was too tired. "Just tell me already. I'm sleepy."

His eyes moved back to hers, staring intently for a long time. "I'm tired too."

"Then stop staring at me and go to sleep." She pulled the blanket around them as best she could while they were lying on it.

"Sleep?"

Then it was her turn to stare at him inquisitively. "Did you have something else in mind?" As much fun as it might be, she feared she'd have to turn him down in favor of a nap.

He looked uncomfortable, swallowing hard and turning away. "No, no, go to sleep."

It was when he rolled away from her that she realized what he was thinking. She fumbled to catch him, twisting herself up in the blanket as she rolled after him.

"El, wait."

He turned quickly, his face so eager she felt bad for having made him unsure.

She smiled as she lifted her arm and the blanket, inviting him into the cocoon. "Stay with me."

His face lit up in a smile. "You're sure?"

She nodded into his chest as he slipped into the blanket with her. As his arms wound around her, she looked up at him. "So now you have proof I don't back down from dares."

He laughed and ran his hand across her cheek. "Me either."

"I don't recall daring you to sleep with me." Though she was glad he'd done it anyway.

With one arm tightly around her, he brought his left hand up between them. "I seem to remember you daring me to tell you what this meant." He turned his wrist so that she could once again see the five digits. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her lips. "March." Another kiss. "Sixteenth." Another kiss. "Ninety-eight." More kisses.

The kissing completely derailed her brain and it took her several minutes after he paused for her to try to wrap her brain around what he had said. Looking back at him, she was still baffled. He seemed proud of what his confession, but it made no sense to her.

He laughed then, working his left arm under her head so he could pull her against him. "It's the day we met, Liv. I told you I knew right away."

Finally, understanding clicked in her brain. No wonder he'd been so secretive about it, he'd been afraid she'd laugh at him for the sentimentality. Seeing his name on her hip had probably been exactly the sort of reassurance he needed to reveal the truth.

"I've been yours since the day we met."

She giggled out of sheer happiness. "Well, since a week after we met. Took you seven whole days to get that tattoo, right?"

He laughed. "Took you seven whole years."

She pressed a kiss to his lips. "Doesn't matter how long it took anymore."

"No, it doesn't." He pulled her even closer and settled his head onto her pillow.

"I love you, El." She knew he already knew it, but it was important to her that she say it. So that he'd know she meant it.

"And I love you."

A smile spread across his face, mirrored by her own. And then they both drifted off to sleep.


End file.
